Trouble
by melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Jackson and April are high school crushes doing what high school crushes do. Getting in trouble.
1. Chapter 1

"April, don't look now, but Hottie Extraordinaire is totally staring at you again."

My best friend, Lexie, comes up behind me and places her hands on my shoulders, speaking right into my ear. "God, you scared me," I say, flinching.

"Oh, my god. He's coming. He's coming over here! Act natural."

"I _was _acting natural before you gave me a heart attack," I say, fiddling with the combination lock on my locker. No matter what, it always sticks and gives me a hard time. "It's just Jackson."

"Oh yeah, _just_ Jackson."

"It is _just_ Jackson."

"I know you guys kissed," she says, poking my side.

I shrug a little, purposefully coy. "Maybe we did," I say, unable to keep the corners of my lips from inching upwards with a grin.

"You so totally did!" she squeals.

"Shut up," I say, hushing her. "You told me to act natural and now you're being a complete psycho."

"When? Where?" she asks, begging for details on the kiss.

"Callie's party on Saturday," I say.

"Were you drunk?"

"No!" I hiss. "I had like, one beer, and so did he. We were pretty much sober."

"How did it happen? Why didn't you tell me sooner? You bitch!"

I giggle, checking over my shoulder. Jackson is distracted by a friend in the hall, so he isn't headed this way anymore. Even so, he lifts his eyes to meet mine and we both smile and look away soon after. "Um… it just kind of happened," I say. "We were on the couch with a bunch of other people and then they all left to play beer pong or something stupid. And it was just us. And he put his arm around me and… yeah." I laugh and shrug. "It was just one kiss. I had to get home for curfew."

"Holy shit," she says, eyes wide as she looks behind me. "Shit. Here he comes."

I turn around casually, like I hadn't been waiting for the moment he'd show up. "Hey," he says smoothly, leaning on the locker next to mine. Then, he looks to my friend. "Hey, Lexie. What's up?"

"Um… not a lot," she says tersely. "Me and April were just catching up. About the weekend."

He makes heavy eye contact with me and I feel it all the way to my core. "It was a great weekend," he says. "Wasn't it?"

I nod and say, "Mm-hmm."

He laughs, low and amused. "Torres' house is the best. I was really happy you were there, April. I don't usually see you out at parties."

"I wanted a change of pace, I guess," I say, trying to play it cool.

"Change is good," he says, then looks at my locker. "You need help with this thing?" He wiggles the fingers of one hand. "I have a magic touch."

"Oh," I say. "Sure." He spins the lock after I tell him the combination and it comes open right away. "Thanks," I say. "I probably would've been standing here all morning."

"Nah, I wouldn't have let that happen," he says, eyes shining. Then, the warning bell rings. "Shit," he says, then clears his throat. "Um… so, I wanted to ask. Are you coming to the game tonight? Coach told me I get to start. And I wanted to know if you like, wanted to come see me play. I thought it'd be cool if you could."

My insides jump like my stomach is filled with a thousand butterflies, and I practically feel Lexie buzzing beside me. I try and stay calm, though, saying, "Of course I'll be there. I'm selling chocolate-covered strawberries for the student council fundraiser." I smile widely. "So, I pretty much have no choice."

"Well, cool then," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, that means I'll see you."

"And I'll see _you_," I say, working up every ounce of gumption I possess.

"Sure will," he says. "Maybe you'll be my good luck charm."

I giggle softly, breaking eye contact to look at the floor - my shyness is taking over. I can't last in this flirtation much longer. "Yeah, maybe," I say.

Then, the second bell rings. "I gotta get to Bio," he says, then reaches to touch my wrist. "But I'll see you tonight."

"See you, too," I say, then blink hard. "I mean, yes. You will see me. I'll be there. Student council. I'll be there… yes." My press my lips together and feel my face heat up. "I will see you."

He waves, tells Lexie goodbye, then she and I look at each other with huge, bugged-out eyes. "He has the world's biggest crush on you," she tells me as we walk to Psych. "And you're so totally in love with him!"

"Oh, whatever," I say, brushing it off only because I'm pretty sure she's right.

…

The student council booth is set up outside the gym, so I hand out strawberries and collect money as everyone files in for the game. I keep an eye out for Jackson while knowing I probably won't see him; he's busy in the locker room with the team, preparing for the game. Even if I were in the audience like everyone else, I wouldn't see him. Still, though, it's hard not to look.

After the crowd finds their seats, the game starts and activity in the lobby dies down. I leave the vice president to man the booth so I can slip inside the main doors of the gym, leaning on the bleachers as I watch Jackson start - just like he said he would. He's great at basketball, no doubt he'll get a scholarship next year; he's amazing to watch. He makes it look so easy, like he doesn't even have to try. Me, on the other hand, I don't think I've ever made a basket in my life. I used to play in elementary school, but I was so bad that I quit halfway through the season.

Of course, he scores the most points. He's the star of the team, everyone knows that, and they depend on him. He shines out there, radiating confidence. It's an attractive quality - especially mixed with the sweat glistening on his skin. I can't take my eyes off of him.

But when halftime rolls around, it's time to get back to the booth. George can't handle that big of a crowd by himself and I would never make him, anyway. We sell more than we thought we would, handing out strawberries to students and parents alike, and we've almost run out when Jackson comes through the gym doors with a water bottle in hand.

He weaves through the sparse crowd until he reaches the table, then leans forward onto both hands so his face hovers near mine. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back. "You're playing great out there."

"Oh, you saw?"

I nod. "Uh-huh. I snuck in and watched you start."

"Oh, cool," he says, grinning.

"You're a ball hog, though," I say teasingly.

He shrugs. "It's not a bad thing when I'm scoring all the points."

"Don't let it get to your head," I say, beaming.

"Too late," he says, then pulls out a $1 bill from his pocket. "I'll take one of these, by the way."

I take his bill, then trade him for a wrapped strawberry. "Some mid-game sustenance?" I ask.

"Nah," he says. "A gift."

"Who's the lucky lady?"

He unwraps the strawberry dipped in hardened chocolate, then hands it over to me. "I'm lookin' at her," he says. "Here. For you."

"Oh," I say, surprised and blushing. "Thanks. I… you didn't have to. I mean, I made these. I could've just…"

"Yeah, but it's for the cause," he says. We're raising money for St. Jude's Children's Hospital this year. "What you guys do is cool."

"Well, thank you," I say, taking the strawberry. I bite into it, cupping one hand under my chin as juice dribbles down. Before it can go anywhere, though, he catches it with one thumb and locks eyes with me, smiling softly. "God, I'm a mess," I say, mouth full of fruit.

"Nah, you're cute," he says, looking away. When he looks back, he clears his throat before glancing to the gym again. "Uh, I gotta go soon. But I was wondering if you'd, um… if you'd maybe wanna go see the new Jordan Peele movie that's out? It's called Us. Like… go see it with me. Tomorrow night, maybe? I just thought it'd be cool."

I barely let a beat pass before I answer. "Yeah," I say. "That sounds really fun."

"Cool," he says, grinning as he exhales - seemingly with relief. "Wanna meet there around 7? I'll text you before." He smiles again after I nod, this time even bigger. "Yeah. Cool. I heard it's awesome."

"I can't wait," I say.

"Avery!" Coach shouts, making us both jump. "Get back in here, we need you!"

"Shit, I gotta go," Jackson says. "But I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," I say, warm inside and out. "Tomorrow."

…

"Wait. He invited you to see Us?"

"Yeah," I say, lying on my bed in the room that my fraternal twin and I share. My sister, Ashtyn, is grounded and therefore couldn't come to the game tonight. She knows all about my trials and tribulations with Jackson, though, including the kiss at Callie's party - so she's been waiting for me to get home to hear an update. "He was so cute about it, too."

"Well, he is cute," she agrees. "But like… April. Come on."

"What?" I say, sitting up to work my hair into a loose bun.

"Don't play dumb," she says.

"I'm not!"

"So you're really this idiotic?" she says.

"You're the idiot," I say. "What are you even talking about?"

"Oh, my god," she says, rolling her eyes while letting out a long sigh. "Us is a horror movie."

"Yeah, I know. But it's supposed to be good and like, smart."

"Still a horror movie," Ashtyn says matter-of-factly. "And guys only invite girls to see horror movies for _one_ reason. Literally." I give her a blank stare and she looks at me like I'm the dumbest person alive. "So you'll get scared and get all cuddly with him!" she spews. "Then, you guys will make out and it'll be like this whole perfect setup. _That's _why he wants to take you to see a horror movie."

I scoff and lay back down. "You don't know that," I say, waving her off. "You've never even had a boyfriend."

"Neither have you!" she points out. "And I've seen way more movies than you. That's what all the guys do. It's like, a tactic for them."

"Movies aren't real life, genius," I say.

"Well, they're all I have to go off right now," she says. "I just want you to be prepared. What are you gonna do if he tries to kiss you?"

"I don't know… kiss him back?" I say, voice tilting upwards at the end.

She laughs and says, "Slut!" Then, takes it back immediately. "I'm just kidding. You're not."

"Maybe I wanna be… with Jackson," I say, wiggling my eyebrows for suggestive effect.

Ashtyn bursts out laughing, loud and raucous - so boisterous, she makes me laugh out loud, too. We cackle until we hear, "Girls! Lights out was an hour ago!"

"Oops," I say, then cover my mouth with my hands.

"Night, slut," Ashtyn says, rolling over with a smile in her voice.

"Night, whore."

…

I get to the movie theater before Jackson the following night, wearing a dark green dress paired with a jean jacket. I rock back and forth on the heels of my ankle boots while I wait, chewing gum to keep my mouth from going dry with nerves. When I see him get out of the driver's side of a Jeep, there's a pang in my stomach. I'm 17 and so is he, but I was driven here. I only have my permit, which means I still have to drive with an adult in the car. This is so embarrassing. I can't believe I'm going to have to wait outside for my twin to come get me while he drives off on his own. I feel like such a child for taking so long with driver's ed.

As he walks through the door, I look around like I hadn't just been watching his every move. "Hey, April," he calls, sauntering towards me in that ever-so-casual way. "You beat me."

"Yeah," I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I'm always early. It's a thing. My sister hates it."

"It's all good," he says. "Your sister… you guys are twins, right?"

"Yeah, twins," I say.

"I've seen her around school," he says, leading the way to the ticket counter. "You guys don't really look alike. Except the hair."

"Yeah…" I say. "People expect this whole Mary-Kate and Ashley thing, but that's really not the case. We're fraternal. So, it's like any other siblings, really. We just happened to come out at the same time. We never shared a cell or anything."

"Maybe you will someday, if you get in enough trouble."

"What?" I say.

He chuckles softly. "Share a cell. Like, jail. Sorry, stupid joke."

I nudge him with my shoulder and say, "Shut up. I'm not trouble between the two of us. She is. I'm the one who gets us _out_ of trouble."

"Uh-huh," he says.

"It's true!"

"Sure…" he says again. "Nah, I know you're trouble, April Kepner."

"I am not," I say, smirking through my pout.

"I guess we'll have to see about that."

Jackson buys both of our tickets and I only protest once. The truth is that I wanted him to buy them not because I'm cheap, I have plenty of money saved, but it's a 'date' thing to do. And I really want this to be a date.

"Where should we sit?" I ask, eyeing the mostly-empty movie theater once we get inside. It's a weeknight; the only other people in here are middle-aged, and even so, there aren't many. I find myself wishing it were even emptier. "Do you have a preference?"

He shrugs. "The back is cool. No one to kick your seat."

"Sure," I say, but Ashtyn's words from last night ring through my head. Did he bring me here just to make out with me? Will we watch the movie at all? Am I going to know what I'm doing? Suddenly, my palms begin to sweat so much that my pop almost slips out of my grip.

We get comfortable in the back row and he stretches his legs - there's no one in the row ahead of us, either. I cross my legs towards him, trying to keep my nerves from closing off my body, and wonder whether I should put my eyes on the previews or on him. The silence is weird, even though there are ads playing. I have a feeling that I'm in over my head and I hope he doesn't regret taking me here. I'm awkward and clueless.

"So… this movie's supposed to be really good," I say, trying to remember the phrases from reviews I read earlier tonight.

"Oh yeah, definitely," he responds. "Jordan Peele's a genius. Like real shit, a genius. Did you see Get Out?" I shake my head no. "You have to see it. It's so fucking good."

"Okay," I say.

"You like scary movies?"

I shrug one shoulder and smile, saying, "I like anything, really."

Not necessarily true. I don't know why I said that; I'm not usually the type to mold myself into some version of what I think a guy will like. I always try to remain true to myself, unapologetically so. Lying about the fact that I like scary movies is a pretty big lie. The only one I've ever seen is the original Poltergeist, and that scared the life out of me. I was 15 and didn't sleep for a week. I have a feeling Us is going to be way more intense. I have no idea what I've gotten myself into.

The movie doesn't start out too bad. In fact, it's pretty interesting. It holds my attention so firmly that I forget to be cautious, but all that changes when the other family stands forebodingly outside the original's house. "God," I say, gasping as the screen flashes over to them. I slam backwards in my seat, recoiling as if they're going to jump out and grab me.

In one fluid motion, Jackson stretches and rests an arm along the back of my seat. When I realize what's happening, I try and look over to him with just my eyes - noticing that his focus is still on the screen. "It's about to get really good," he whispers.

His fingertips brush my opposite shoulder and electricity jolts through my body in waves. Was Ashtyn right? Was this his plan all along? The most surprising part is that I don't hate the idea. I used to think the trope of people making out in movie theaters was trashy and desperate. But now that there's a possibility of it happening to me, I'm tempted. I see the draw now. Everything is dark and the movie is loud. It feels like we're in our own little bubble. How bad would it be to live up to one teeny, tiny teenage stereotype?

As the movie's plot furthers and gets increasingly bloodier, my eyes are closed more than they're open. I fall for every single jump scare. And before the halfway point, Jackson's hand finds its way to my thigh. My bare thigh, just under the fabric of my dress.

Kissing in the movie theater is something I'm okay with, although as much hasn't happened yet. But below-the-belt touching? That seems borderline exhibitionist. I only just had my first kiss last week - with him. The potential of this contact gives me jitters that I'm not sure are good or bad. I have to say something. It's in my blabbermouth nature to say something.

"Jackson," I hiss through the darkness. My eyes dart to his hand, which hasn't moved. It's warm and dry, comforting really, but in completely new territory. Is this wrong? Should I feel inappropriate? I have no idea what to think.

"Yeah?"

I lick my lips and take a tepid breath, wondering how to say what I want without coming off rude or confrontational. Neither of those things are me. "Um… did you bring me to see a scary movie just so we could do stuff?" I ask.

"What?"

I widen my eyes. "Are we seeing Us just so like, I get scared and we can make out?"

Someone from a lower row hushes us. "Shhh!"

Jackson's eyes dart towards them as he laughs, speaking anyway. "Uh, no," he says. "I saw this movie already and thought it was badass, and I wanted to see it again. It kinda felt like a good like, date idea… so I asked you." He pauses. "But I'm not against the idea of making out, if you're down."

"Shhh!"

"You shhh!" I call back, eyebrows furrowed. I look back to Jackson and ask, "Right here?" He nods. "How?"

"I mean… I'd just kiss you," he says. "I've been wanting to do it again ever since the party. There just hasn't really been a good time."

My eyes flash to the screen, then to a sound by the theater doors. But seeing nothing, I revert back to him. "So, do it then," I say mischievously, turning my body to face him.

He flashes me a smirk that matches mine and holds my face in his hands, bringing it closer. When our lips touch, it felt just like it did at the party, only better. This time, there aren't drunk teenagers around us playing stupid party games, or too-loud music in the next room. Right now, it's only me and him in the dark, in a row all to ourselves.

"Hey, you two," a gruff voice says. I jump and pull away from Jackson, covering my mouth with one hand. "We've gotten a few noise complaints. And this is no place for getting handsy. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, god," I say, blushing so violently that I'm worried my head will explode. I gather my purse and keep my head ducked, allowing the usher to show us out. I'm beyond mortified. Something like that has never happened to me.

Once we're in the brightly-lit hallway, Jackson starts laughing. I look up at him with humiliation written all over my face and shake my head, bewildered at how lightly he's taking this.

"I am so sorry," I say. "I know you wanted to see that again. And now we…"

He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together in a motion that feels more natural than anything. "I thought you said you weren't trouble," he mutters, speaking so close to my ear that his voice gives me chills.

Those words rejuvenate me and make the embarrassment fade to something more brazen. Possibly bolder than anything else I've ever felt before. "Maybe I was wrong," I say. "And my curfew isn't for another hour."

"What do you wanna do?" he asks.

I quickly text Ashtyn and tell her I'm getting a ride home, then look to Jackson. "Let's drive."

…

We do drive for a little while. It's too cold to roll the windows down, but we crank the radio in his Lincoln and cruise back country roads at a speed I never have before. We live in the same neighborhood and he takes the long way there, curving down winding roads and taking corners fast, all the while never letting go of my hand.

When we pull onto my street, he parks a few houses down from mine. I can see it - the two-story brick is hard to miss - but we're still a good distance away. He shifts the car to a stop and turns to me, eyes glinting. I know what it's next; I don't have to ask. "Should we finish what we started?" I say.

"Wanna get in the back?" he says, gesturing with his head.

Before I know it, my body is pressed under his - his hips rest between my spread thighs and I wind my feet around to rest on his calves, keeping him as close as humanly possible while he drops kisses to my neck. I melt because of the way it feels, fanning my fingers out across his shoulder blades as he sighs against my skin.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"It's great," I say, running my fingernails up his back. "It feels really good."

"Good," he says, smiling as he kisses the spot right below my ear. He tangles his fingers in my hair and moves to kiss my cheek, then my lips. I tighten my thighs around him, locking his body in place as I open my mouth to allow his tongue inside. The only sound in the car is that of our mouths moving against each other and heavy breathing - so heavy that the windows are sufficiently foggy when I open my eyes in response to a knocking sound.

"What was that?" I ask, arms around his neck as he kisses my ear.

"Probably something falling in the back," he mutters, moving to my collarbone again.

Then, I hear it again. A definite, defined knock. Three taps in succession. "Wait," I say, sitting up while supporting myself with arms behind me. Jackson moves with me, his body still overlapping mine, as the knock comes again. "Shit. Who is that?"

"April?"

"What the…" I say, then maneuver myself out from underneath Jackson to open the back door. When I do, I see my twin standing there in her sweatpants, a nervous and uncomfortable look on her face. She can't meet my eyes. "What do you want?" I spit.

"It's curfew in 3 minutes. Mom and Dad just texted the group that they'll be home in 5. I figured this car was you, so I'm actually saving your ass right now."

"Shit," I curse, then shove my feet into my ankle boots. I look to Jackson, whose face is flushed - lips swollen and red from so much kissing. I hold his cheek with one hand and peck him affectionately, but hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I gotta go. My parents will kill me if they find out."

"Of course," he says. "Yeah, it's cool."

"I'm really sorry," I say, and we both get out of the car. It's hard not to notice that he has a raging boner. "I feel bad. Leaving you in the dust like-"

"April, we are both gonna be so dead if you don't wrap this up."

"Right," I say, then give Jackson a quick hug and one more kiss. "Text me, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," he says. "See you tomorrow."

With a wave, Ashtyn and I race down the street and up our driveway, then stampede up the stairs just before hearing the sound of the garage door. "You are a goddamn lifesaver," I tell her, changing out of my date clothes.

"And you are a goddamn horny teenager," she says. "Dry humping in his car like that. Naughty, naughty!"

"Girls?"

I widen my eyes and mimic the motion of my finger slicing my neck. Ashtyn gets the idea. "Up here, mom," I say.

She peeks her head in the door and smiles at both of us, innocent as ever. I had quickly changed into my pajamas and Ashtyn was already there; as we sit on our respective beds, she's none the wiser. "Hope you stayed out of trouble while we were gone," she says.

"Oh, always," Ashtyn says, her voice sugar-sweet.

"Yep," I say.

"How was the movie?" Mom asks me.

"Pretty good," I say. "Freaky."

"I heard she and Jackson even held hands," Ashtyn says, and I grit my teeth together while trying not to seem obvious.

"Sweet," Mom says, then eyes me. "I want you to be careful around boys. Both of you. Sometimes, you don't always know what they're capable of."

"I think April knows," Ashtyn says slyly.

Mom shoots me a look, but I pretend to be equally as confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, looking at my comforter instead of their eyes. "But I'm really tired. We can talk more in the morning, maybe?"

Once Mom leaves, I throw a pillow at my sister as hard as I can. "Ow!" she laughs, falling backwards on her bed.

"You bitch!" I say. "Way to be obvious."

"I wasn't gonna say shit!"

"You almost did."

"Chill, geez," she says, rubbing where the pillow hit her. "Call you Babe Ruth with that fuckin' arm."

"You deserved it," I say.

"Whatever," she says. "You'd literally be in the grave right now if it weren't for me. If Mom and Dad would've noticed you not home or even worse, in Jackson's car pinned under him?" She raises her eyebrows. "You'd be watching me from heaven right now. Or maybe… given your latest excursion… somewhere a little warmer."

I can't help but laugh when I say, "You're the literal worst."

"I think you mean 'best,'" she says. "Common rookie mistake."

"No, I meant what I said," I say, pulling my covers up and switching off my light. "Worst."

…

The next day during my free period, I come up with a plan.

I know what class Jackson is in right now - Spanish 2 with Mrs. Bonnette. So, I make my way there, stride as confident as ever, and knock on the door with curt efficiency.

"April, hi," Mrs. Bonnette says. "Good to see you! It's been so long."

I'm in Spanish 4B now with Mrs. Ruiz; I haven't taken this class since I was a sophomore. "Hi," I say warmly. "I was hoping I could borrow Jackson Avery for a while. We need him for an interview for the yearbook. We're finishing up the winter sports pages today."

"Of course," she says. "Jackson, take the pass."

I give him a friendly smile as he looks at me with confusion, then lead the way out of the classroom, shutting the door behind us. "Yearbook?" he asks once we're alone. "You guys do interviews now?"

"No," I say, still walking briskly.

"Then where are you taking me?" he says. "Wait. Did April Kepner just lie to a teacher?"

"A white lie," I say sneakily, pulling a ring of keys out of my messenger bag. I find the one with the blue grip and use it to open the janitor's closet where we've stopped.

"What the hell are we doing?" he asks as I open the door.

My eyes flash as my face splits into a smile. I grab a fistful of his shirt and tug him inside with me, saying, "We're gonna finish what we started. And this time, no one's gonna interrupt."

I close the door behind us and keep the light off. I can still see his eyes shining in the darkness, though, and I like it. "What'd I say," he says softly, kissing me in the middle of his sentence. "You're trouble."


	2. Chapter 2

Jackson and I slip out of the janitor's closet after the bell rings to switch classes. I squint against the fluorescent lights in the hall and do my best to smooth down my hair, but I'm not sure how well it works. Everything about me is sloppy; my shirt was French tucked before, and now it's wrinkled and loose at the bottom. No matter how much situating I do, it won't lay right. My face is hot and red; even my pants feel tighter.

"Hey," Jackson says, catching my attention. "You look fine."

A swarm of students passes and I back up against the wall, doing my best to catch my breath. That, much like the adjustment of my shirt, doesn't go well. I have a feeling my lips are swollen - they have to be. With how much he was kissing me, there's no way they aren't. "I doubt that," I say with a smile, eyes shining as he gets closer, prepared to kiss me again.

"Kepner! Avery! PDA!" Mr. Belton barks, foiling our plan.

Instantly, Jackson takes a step back and shoots me a sheepish look. "Oops," he says, then smirks. "Trouble."

"You are," I counter back. Then, the warning bell rings. "I gotta get to Calc," I say, glancing down the hallway to where my classroom is.

"Actually gonna go to class this time, skipper?" he teases.

"I always go to class," I say.

"Yeah, when you're not pulling me into closets, sure," he says, then takes my hand. "Hey. Maybe we can hang out later?"

"Um… maybe," I say. "I have volleyball. But I'll text you."

"Not if I text you first."

I roll my eyes playfully and ask, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yeah," he says. "Strength and Conditioning. But looking at your face happens to be way better than looking at Kastran's. Can you blame me?"

"Hey, she's a fox," I say, trying to be serious. It's hard when he's looking at me in the way he is, though. "Okay, go!"

"Fine, shoo me away," he says, then takes my hand and squeezes it. "Talk to you later."

"Bye," I say, clutching my binder close to my chest as I hurry towards Mr. Esterline's classroom. I can't get the stupid smile off my face no matter how hard I try, and it's still there as I sit in a desk right next to my sister's.

"You look like a clown," she mutters, slumped in her seat as she flips through papers in her folder.

"Shut up," I say, looking down to try and compose myself.

"I totally saw you," she says.

My head darts up. "What?" I say, voice clipped.

She chuckles a little, raising her eyebrows in my direction. "I said, I saw you."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Jackson, all close in the hallway?" She nods. "I saw the hand-holding. I saw Belton yell at you for PDA. So, tell me everything."

My eyes dart to the front of the room where Mr. Esterline is making his way towards the whiteboard. "No!" I say.

"Yes!" Ashtyn insists. "I wanna know all the details. Why are you all flushed? Did you guys bang in the single-stall bathroom?"

"No!"

"The auditorium?"

"We didn't bang!" I say, eyes wide.

"I know you did something," she says suspiciously.

"I can't talk right now," I say through gritted teeth. "Later."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

…

I play middle blocker in volleyball, which means I get the ball a lot of the time. Ashtyn usually has swimming after school, but today practice got canceled because a second-grader threw up in the pool during their gym class. So, today, she's in the bleachers on her phone while I try to make practice pass as quickly as possible.

"Nice hit, Kepner!" Coach Alkire calls when I make an especially good set. I smile to myself, proud to have executed it, then hear booing from the audience. I know it's my idiot sister, so I don't even look. I won't give her the satisfaction.

When it's time to break for water, I'm sweating and hair frizzing out of my ponytail sticks to my damp forehead. I do my best to wipe it away, but there's not much to be done in the way of controlling it. I take a long swig from my water bottle and look up, prepared to make an ugly face at Ashtyn, when I see Jackson sitting a few rows down from her. My eyes widen and an involuntary smile grows on my face; he's the last person I expected to see here.

I vaguely see my sister shaking her head at my change in expression, but I don't pay her any mind. I lift my hand in a small wave and he winks in return, which makes my stomach do its usual flips. "You're a beast out there," he says, cupping a hand around his mouth so his words carry.

I give him a playful shrug and a flip of my ponytail, then rejoin my team. I don't want to make a fool of myself now that I know he's watching me, so I work extra hard to make no mistakes. I act like a bit of a ball hog now and then, spiking it over when my teammates totally could've taken it, but it's worth it when I hear Jackson cheering.

When practice ends, Jackson's heavy footsteps down the bleachers get closer and closer to where I stand with my duffel bag. "Ball hog," he murmurs under his breath.

"Nuh-uh."

"Show off."

"Whatever," I say, grinning.

"Let the other girls have a turn every once in a while," he says. "Geez."

"Coming from you, that's really funny," I say, ribbing him.

"I am funny," he says. "But looks aren't everything." I roll my eyes at his stupid quip. "Loving the shorts, by the way."

I look down, suddenly hyper-aware of how short and tight my volleyball shorts are. I resist the urge to either pull my jersey down, which is nearly impossible, or try to adjust them. That would be way too obvious. "Thanks," I say. "Maybe the basketball team should switch uniforms with us."

"You wouldn't wanna see their asses in those, I guarantee," he says, shaking his head. "I need to bleach my imagination now."

"Maybe I just wanna see yours," I say, testing the waters with a sly tone.

He looks at me with interest. "The feeling is mutual," he says. "But… not my ass. I mean I wanna see… like, you. In the shorts."

"You're seeing me in them right now."

"I know," he says, then scrubs one hand down his face. "God. Forget I said anything."

I laugh a little and say, "I don't think I'll be able to."

"Great," he says. "Well… since practice is over, are you doing anything right now?"

I look past him and make eye contact with my sister, who's standing with her arms crossed and hip popped to one side. For her, that's patient. "I gotta get home…" I say. "I have homework and my parents are expecting us. So annoying. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's cool," he says, then looks over his shoulder to where Ashtyn is. "Hey, twin," he says, waving.

"Hey," she responds. "April, can we leave yet?"

"One second," I say, then let my eyes shift to his lips. I wonder if we're supposed to kiss right now, or hug, or do nothing at all. Is right here the place to do it? Are we in the type of relationship where it's normal to kiss goodbye? I've never done this before. I have absolutely no clue how to act.

Then, voicing my thoughts, Jackson speaks up. "Can I kiss you goodbye?" he asks. "Just a little one… I know it's probably weird, you know, with your sister right there. But I just… I really wanna kiss you again."

"Yeah," I say, smiling with relief.

He cradles my sweaty face in his hands and kisses me softly, just once. We pull away and I blink my eyes open into his, and he presses his lips gently to the tip of my nose. "Have a good night," he says. "Text me."

"Can we go _now_?" Ashtyn gripes.

"I will," I say, interlacing our fingers and extending my arm as I walk away. We stay connected for as long as we can, laughing when we finally break apart.

"You are in so fucking deep," Ashtyn mutters as we head out of the gym. "It'd be cute if it weren't so gross."

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you."

"Yeah, whatever," she says. "If I gotta find someone to live through, it might as well be you. Tell me everything."

When we get inside the car, I spill. "I don't know what came over me," I say, excited by the memory alone. "I was in free period like, seriously obsessing. It was getting crazy. I couldn't stop thinking about kissing him, and before I knew it, I was in his class, telling Ms. Bonnette that the yearbook staff needed to interview him."

"You guys do interviews now?"

"No!" I say, pressing back against the seat as she pulls out of the parking lot. "I made it up, duh. He asked the same thing. And… well, I basically pulled him into the janitor's closet and we made out. I don't know how long. Maybe twenty minutes?" I press my hands to my cheeks. "It was amazing."

"Hell yeah, it was!" she says. "Holy shit. I can't believe _you_, of all people, did that."

"I know," I say, shaking my head. "But I've never felt like this before. He's taken over my entire brain."

"Yeah, what little you have," she jokes. Then asks, "You thinking about him right now?"

"Duh!" I say. "Kinda hard not to." I sigh and toss my head to the side, leaning against the window as it rattles. "I wish we could hang out."

"Why can't you?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "There's no way Mom and Dad will let me go over to his house, and I'm the worst liar ever. Even less likely they'll let him over to ours."

"Why do they have to know?" Ashtyn says, clearly up to something.

"What do you mean?" I ask, then realize what she's getting at. "Oh… this weekend…" This weekend, both of our parents are headed to a conference in the next state. Ashtyn and I will be left to our own devices from Friday night to midday Sunday. "I could invite him over then!"

"Yeah," she says. "And maybe some other people, too."

"No, I'm good with just him," I say.

"Not for you," she says. "A small party would be cool. We've never had one at our house before; it's definitely big enough. Come on, April, you know it would be fucking awesome."

"It would be stressful," I say. "I thought this was about me and Jackson."

"And what do you expect me to do while you guys go at it?" she asks. "Stand and wait outside my own bedroom door? Yeah, right. Having a party will make things more inconspicuous for you guys, anyway. And if you want people to know you're together… they'll definitely know."

"Wait," I say. "_Are_ we together?"

"How should I know?" she counters. "Are you?"

"I honestly have no idea."

She pauses for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, that's fine," she says, then looks to me with excitement. "So… we're having a party."

I puff out my cheeks and let out a long stream of air. "I guess," I concede, then point a finger at her. "As long as it stays _small_."

…

Of course, the party does not stay small. I should've known better than to agree to a party in the first place and basically give my sister a reason to trash our house. At 8, she sends me to buy more plastic cups and I argue that she should go since she's the one with the driver's license, but she counters back that she needs to stay at the house because I'm too awkward to hang alone if people start arriving. So, I'm forced to take my bike to the gas station. When I coast back down our street and skid into the driveway, I notice how many guests are already here.

"Ashtyn, what the hell?" I say, after carefully parking my bike in the garage. I had wanted to tip it over on the grass, but was afraid it might get stolen by the end of the night. So, I took the responsible route, as usual. "There's a million people here!"

"Oh shut up, it's not a million," she says, rolling her eyes. She's already talking to a guy I don't recognize.

"I don't know half these people!" I say.

"Some of them are from Kingstown Prep, would you chill?" she says. "You're being annoying."

"Oh, I'm being annoying," I grumble, massaging my temples with two fingers each. Just as I open my mouth to say something else, the front door comes open and yet another flood of partygoers comes in. "More?!" I hiss. "This is crazy. We can't do this. We have to tell people to leave."

I clear my throat to make my voice louder, but before I can shout, Ashtyn gets a firm grip on my upper arm. "Don't," she growls. "You're being a pussy."

"It's very anti-feminist of you to use that as an insult," I point out.

"God, I wanna kill you so bad," she says.

"There's too many people here, Ash. It's gonna get crazy. We're already like one of those stereotypes from the movies. Really… the red plastic cups, the cheap booze? How did you even get that, anyway?"

"Izzie's brother is a sophomore at the community college and he hooked us up," she says. "You should be grateful. And you should be drinking, actually. It'll calm you down."

"I'm not drinking that nasty-ass beer," I say, scrunching up my nose.

"Yes, you are," she says. "Before your man gets here and sees you acting like a psycho."

"I don't appreciate the manipulation."

Her grip loosens on my arm. "April, honestly. Can you just have fun for once in your life? Let loose, and you'll like it. I swear. If you're still freaking in like, an hour, we'll tell people to leave. Okay?" I let out a long exhale from my nose and nod slowly. "Okay," she says. "Go get a drink. Laugh. Talk to people. Dance on a table."

"Oh, my god."

She laughs. "You know what I mean," she says. "Just go be a kid, for God's sake. Quit acting like Mom on a bad day."

I try to take her advice. I go to the drink station set up in our kitchen and, while I'm tempted to stick with regular lemonade, I go for Mike's Hard instead and it actually doesn't taste bad. I tell myself to quit after one, though; I'm not a drinker and I don't want to act messy when Jackson gets here.

He's taking forever. It's hard not to clean up after people when I see them leave their glasses in places they shouldn't, or drop wrappers on the floor. I do it as little as I can, but refraining entirely would be against my nature. So, when I lock eyes with Jackson for the first time, I'm on my knees with a rag, mopping up some spilled Sprite.

I smile instantly, unable to help it, and he smiles back as he makes his way through the crowd by the door. "Hey," he says, standing over me and extending a hand. "Your sister put you on cleaning duty, or something?"

"No," I say, taking his hand. Once I'm on my feet, I don't want to let go of it - so I don't. I set the rag down and our fingers stay awkwardly clasped, which makes us both giggle. "I just get a little obsessed."

"With cleaning? During a party?" he says, then adjusts our hands to fit together more comfortably.

"Sorry, sticky," I say. "Let me, um… let me wash mine." He stands by the sink as I run my hands under the faucet and I can feel his eyes steady on me. "I'm glad you came," I say.

"Sorry I'm late," he says. "My mom was chatting my ear off on my way out the door." He shakes his head and smiles. "She lets me do whatever I want, pretty much, but not without a thousand-year long conversation first. No hard drugs, no more than a few drinks, that kinda stuff."

"She sounds cool," I say. "My parents just kinda suspect that me and Ash don't do anything bad. Or, maybe they just don't wanna think about it. 'Cause they're not necessarily strict, but they definitely wouldn't be okay with this if they were home."

"Yeah, it got pretty big," he says, looking around. "But at least you have a nice place for a party."

"Thanks," I say, drying my hands as I face him again. "Um… so, do you want a drink? We could find someplace more quiet, too. I don't think anyone's out on the deck."

"Sure," he says, scanning the bucket of ice before pulling out a bottle of beer. I pick up a can of Diet Pepsi and wrap both hands around it, suddenly too nervous to reach for him again. "Not drinking?" he asks.

"I already had one before you got here," I say. "A lemonade. I don't wanna overdo it."

"I get that," he says. "Pop is good, anyway. Lead the way, hostess."

Once we're on the deck, it's just the two of us in the cool night air. I let my shoulders deflate - inside, I hadn't realized I was so tense. Everything feels better out here. I set my pop can down on the railing as Jackson cracks open his beer, then lean forward with both hands on the ledge.

"Pretty yard," he says, and I turn to smile at him. Then, he looks into my eyes and says, "Pretty girl."

"Cheesy," I say, cheeks heating up wildly. So much so, I have to look away.

"You never texted me," he says.

"I did," I say. "I told you about the party. You're here, aren't you?"

"Yeah…" he says. "But I mean like… texting, just to talk."

"Oh," I say. "You like that?"

"Doesn't everyone?" he asks.

"I didn't know it was a thing with guys."

"Well, maybe it's not," he says. "But it is for me when it comes to a girl I like."

"Oh," I say again. "Well… I can text you more often. I'd like that, too."

"I know the phone works both ways," he says, speaking quickly. "I didn't mean to sound like a dick. I just didn't know if you wanted… to talk like that, I don't know." He shrugs, trying to play it cool.

"I think we were both on the same clueless page," I say. "At least, now we're not."

"True," he says, his hand nearing mine. "I don't like being clueless."

"Yeah, me neither."

"It's definitely not something you're used to," he says. "With how smart you are, and all."

I scoff. "Yeah, smart."

"What do you mean?" he says. "You're in the Top 10, trying to tell me you're not smart?"

"There are other people way smarter," I say. "The teachers just like me."

"Not as much as I do," he says, and suddenly his hand his on top of mine, our fingers woven together.

I press my lips together and suppress a smile that would be scarily huge if I didn't. "I like you, too," I say, meeting his eyes for as long as I can - which is only for a fleeting moment.

"I've pretty much liked you for forever," he says.

"Wait, what?"

"Psh, you definitely knew," he says, bumping me with his hip. "Don't play that."

"No, I didn't!" I say, voice rising in pitch. "I seriously did not know. How would I have known? You'd barely ever spoken to me before Callie's party!"

"I wanted to," he says. "But my brain and my mouth would kinda go stupid when you came around. I just happened to get lucky that night. Still have no idea how."

"Stop messing with me," I say, moving so our upper arms are flush together.

"Why would I mess with you?" he asks.

"Because…" I say. "You're you and I'm me. And this isn't a movie."

"Yeah, I know," he says. "If it were, we'd have some twinkly lights out here or some shit."

I can't help but laugh. "Seriously," I say.

"Nah, I don't see why you think I'm playing," he says. "You can ask any of the guys. They were so sick of hearing me talk about you." I shake my head, smirking as we lock eyes. "What?" he says.

I let out a short sigh. "Just don't know where you came from," I say.

"Been lurking," he says. "Hiding in corners and shit, hoping you don't see me while kinda hoping you do. That kinda thing."

"You're a creep," I say, giggling.

"I've been called worse," he says.

Our eyes stay trained on each other for a long moment, then his flit to my lips subtly before darting back up again. I know what he wants, because I want the same thing - but I want him to initiate it. Luckily, he doesn't wait long. Using his free hand, he cups the side of my face and I close my eyes, ready to be kissed, but am instead interrupted by the sound of the slider coming open and a menagerie of voices joining our quiet bubble. When I open my eyes, it seems like half the house has found its way to the backyard and the bass is bumping; they don't even notice us.

"Shitty timing," Jackson mumbles.

"Um… let's go somewhere else," I say, picking up his hand to lead him inside. "I don't think anyone's upstairs. We can go to my room."

"Sure," he says, and we maneuver through the crowd on the lower level of the house to make our way there.

As I'm halfway up, I make accidental eye contact with my sister who wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, so I mouth _shut up_ back. She mimics some sort of thrusting action, and I flip her the bird.

"What happened?" Jackson asks.

"Nothing," I say, pulling him harder until we're out of view of the party guests, walking down the substantially quieter upstairs hallway. When we get to mine and Ashtyn's room, I open the door and say, "This one's mine. Well… ours. I share it with my sister."

"Oh, that's cool," he says, walking in. I shut the door behind us and lock it for good measure - I don't want drunk idiots stumbling in here. "So, you guys are super close?"

"We kinda have to be," I say with a laugh. "No, I'm kidding. We really are. She's really cool most of the time."

"Bet it gets annoying when you guys fight and have to go back to the same bedroom."

"Well…" I say, giggling again. "Usually, she goes out for a drive, or something."

"And you get the room?"

"Yeah," I say. "'Cause I don't have my license yet."

"Ooh, newbie," he says. "Guess I'll just have to take you places, then."

"Yeah?" I say, sitting down on my bed. He follows suit. I can't believe that I have a boy in my room; this is surreal. "Where would you take me?"

"Anywhere you wanna go," he answers smoothly, turning to face me. "You tell me."

"I don't know…" I say softly, making it obvious that I'm staring at his mouth. I want to kiss him so bad. My entire body is hot. "Right now, I'm pretty happy here."

"Me, too," he says, then tucks my hair behind my ears with both hands. "April, can I kiss you?"

"Please," I say, and we both smile against each other's lips when we come together. At first, his hands are gentle and even tentative as they rest on my shoulders - then one moves as he buries his fingers in my curled hair. As his nails scrape my scalp, I can't help the small sound that escapes me and loses itself in his throat. I've never felt like this before, so worked up. Everything is moving so fast, but I don't want it to stop. Stopping is the last thing I want to do.

"You taste good," he says, finally pulling away.

"Vanilla mint Chapstick," I say, breathless.

"Let me get some more of that," he says slyly, and tilts his head against mine again. This time, he holds it more firmly between his hands and I love how strong he is, how capable. I willingly allow my body to turn to mush as he touches me, and before I know it, I'm on his lap as his back rests against the wall.

I've never been this close to another person, let alone a boy. I feel my pulse over every inch of my skin, and there's something hard prodding the inside of my thigh that I can only assume is his erection. A strange sense of pride washes through me as I settle my weight onto it, fully aware of what I'm doing to him. He only makes it more obvious by groaning against my neck as he kisses me there, fingers kneading the small of my back.

The movement of my hips starts off involuntary. At first, I don't even realize I'm doing it - I only become conscious when he grabs my waist with two sturdy hands, thumbs digging into my hip points. "This feels… you feel amazing," he tells me, pupils blown and eyes wild.

"I feel amazing," I murmur, then laugh against his ear, where I've found my lips. "I mean…" I laugh again. "I do feel amazing, but it's because of you."

"Just let me know if you wanna stop," he says, greedy hands moving south to rest over my ass. He yanks me closer and I squeal softly, arms tightening around his neck.

"I don't wanna stop," I say. "At all. Ever."

"Me, neither," he says, and I pull back only to yank off my shirt. Underneath, only a periwinkle bralette is left - lacy and girly. I had no idea he'd be seeing me shirtless tonight, but I'm glad I chose to wear it. "Holy shit," he says, unabashedly staring at my chest.

I'm not endowed with much and I probably never will be, but the way Jackson looks at me makes me feel more confident than I ever have. Suddenly, everyone who made fun of me for being flat-chested until sophomore year doesn't matter and never did. He's the only one who matters, because he's looking at me like I'm the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"If you want, you can…" I motion to my chest with my chin.

"Touch them?" he asks.

"Yeah."

I want his hands on me so bad. I don't know what to expect because I've never gone this far with a guy - this is my first time with everything - but nothing could have prepared me for the jolts running up and down my body when he cups my breasts, one in each hand. He looks at me briefly for approval and I nod him along, lips parted, and he gives them a solid squeeze. "Does that feel good?" he asks.

"Yeah, keep going," I say, widening my knees to lessen the space between our bodies even further.

"Mm, you're so…" he says, unable to finish his sentence before leaning forward and kissing my sternum. I arch my back to get my breasts closer to him, trying to communicate without words what I want him to do. And with quick eye contact, he understands. He winds his hands around my back and fumbles for the clasp of the bra only to find that there isn't one.

"Oh," I say. "It just goes over my head, like a shirt"

"Oh," he says. "Can I?"

"Do you want to?"

"Do you?"

I laugh a little. "Yeah," I say. "You can take it off me."

"Yeah," he says, then takes the fabric at my ribs in his hands before lifting it over my head. Once it's off, my nipples harden against the cool air, but I don't have the urge to cover up. I'm usually a modest person, but Jackson is taking me out of my shell in more ways than one tonight. "Jesus," he says, pulling me even closer. When he opens his mouth over one nipple and runs his tongue over the bud, a million shockwaves shoot to my groin and stay there. My hips start moving all over again as he digs his nails into my back, causing my breath to grow short and shallow as my brain fogs. I want to feel like this all night; or even better, forever. I never want him to stop touching me like he is right now.

So, I tell him as much. "Don't stop," I whisper, holding the back of his neck.

"Alright," he says, smiling against the swell of my breast. "I didn't really plan on it."

Soon enough, I get him out of his shirt, too. I'm not sure where this newfound sexual confidence is coming from, but I don't waste time questioning it. He makes me feel like the boldest version of myself; I barely remember what it's like to be unsure about anything. No wonder people rave about sex. We haven't even gone all the way, yet I'm on top of the world.

As the thought comes to mind, I speak without employing a filter. "Are we gonna have sex tonight?" I ask after he's laid me down. I'm topless, jeans still on, arms splayed above my head. There's an obvious bulge in the crotch of his pants that I want to see more of. The pulsing between my own legs has grown so hard to push aside that I can't help but squirm and press my thighs together.

He looks a little surprised, pulling back from where his face had been buried in my neck. One hand still stays on my breast, though, absently tracing the nipple. That only makes my arousal more insistent. "I… I don't know," he says. "If you don't want to, we don't have to."

"No, I do want to," I say surely, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Don't you?"

"Fuck yeah, I do," he says, and kisses me lightly. I cup his face after he does, tracing the apples of his cheeks with my thumbs.

"Are you a virgin?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No," he says. "But I've only done it once. With-"

"Don't tell me," I say, then playfully smack his chest. "That's like, rule number one."

"Oh," he says, chuckling. "I didn't know about the rules." He's quiet for a moment, eyes roaming my face, before he kisses my mouth again. "Are you one?"

"Huh?"

"Um, a virgin," he says. "Are you one?"

"Yeah," I say. "I thought that was pretty obvious."

"Still good to ask, I thought," he says. "So… I don't really know what that means. Are you freaked out? Should I like… do something different or special?"

"It already is special, you goof," I say, running my fingers through his hair. "Stop overthinking. You sound like me." He laughs against my mouth and lowers his weight between my legs. "Just keep doing what you're doing. I like it a lot."

"Alright."

"Am I doing a good job?" I ask, hating myself for sounding so insecure. "Like, does it feel good to you?"

"Everything you do is fucking amazing," he tells me, kissing a path from my chin down between my breasts, where my heart hammers wildly. "Everything you say… and how you kiss me, and your body is just… damn. Yeah." He looks at me with molten eyes and I practically come right on the spot. I swear I could. "You're great."

"_You're_ great," I whisper, then take a deep breath as he unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my legs with care. Pretty soon, only my underwear is left - and I realize they have tiny little Hello Kitty heads patterned all over them. "Oh, god," I say, covering my face with my hands. "I wanna die."

He laughs, which makes his shoulders shake. He kisses below my belly button and around my hip bones, tracing the waist of the underwear with his thumbs. "I like them," he says, lips moving against the fabric. I've never been touched there before, so my body flinches with the contact.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay," he replies, just as quiet. "If you wanna stop, just tell me. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Like, for real," he says. "You can just say it. I won't be mad."

"Do _you_ want to stop?"

"No, fuck no," he says. "I just don't wanna be that douche who, like… forces a virgin to, like…"

"Jackson," I say. "I want this so bad. If it's too much, I'll say something. Trust that I will. But I really, really want this."

"Alright," he says, then smiles as he kisses my core again - over the cotton. "I was about to say something really cheesy."

"Say it," I tell him.

He shakes his head at himself. "When these come off, it'll be like… hello, kitty."

"Oh, my _god_…" I groan, drawing out the words. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard. Literally ever."

"Told you it was bad," he says, taking his own jeans off. They join mine on the floor in seconds and he's back to where he was, head between my legs.

"Come up here with your dad jokes," I say, extending my arms. I don't know if I'm ready for oral yet. The concept of his tongue there is a little terrifying. What if I taste or smell bad? What if he's totally grossed out? I took a shower earlier today, but what if I'm still not clean enough? I'm not ready. I need to prepare for something like that.

I feel his erection pressing against my inner thigh, so I wrap my legs around his waist to bring it closer. As we kiss, I urge my hips against his and he responds, growing and groaning into my mouth. "You're gonna make me come in my shorts," he mumbles, kissing the corner of my lips.

"Let's take them off, then," I say, reaching to shimmy out of my underwear. He does the same, then we're both naked. I expected the world to shift or my mind to explode, but neither of those things happen. I'm naked with a boy, a boy I really like, and that's it. Nothing has changed about me except for that. "I'm ready," I say, eyes flashing between his penis and his eyes. It's hard not to stare. I've never seen one in real life before, only in the Snapchats that Ashtyn sometimes gets, unsolicited. His is so much better than those. It's big and not at all unattractive, just foreign. If it weren't so weird to do, I'd spend longer looking at it. I don't think that's normal, though, so I try and keep my eyes on his face.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Uh-huh," I say, widening my legs so he has enough room.

He smiles and kisses me slow, petting my hair back after he does. "Okay," he says. "Just tell me if…"

"I know."

Then, he pushes inside me. Very slowly and with intent, he watches himself as he goes, maybe to make sure he's doing it right, I don't know. The feeling isn't so pleasant on my end, but I power through. I've never had something inside me, and it doesn't feel natural. Not necessarily painful, but definitely not euphoric like the books and movies make it seem. Nowhere near as amazing as everything else we were doing. After he's fully in, I can't help but wonder what all the fuss over penetrative sex is about. This is it? I don't feel much except for a big twinge and a whole lot of pressure. I don't know if I'll be able to handle it when he moves.

Suddenly, he pulls out. "What're you doing?" I ask.

"Your face," he says. "I saw it. I was hurting you." He pauses for a moment. "I was, wasn't I?"

"Well…" I say, adjusting my hips. I put a pillow under the small of my back, thinking maybe it will help. "A little. But it's my first time. I think that's just kind of how it goes."

"I don't want it to hurt, April," he says.

"Didn't it feel good for you?"

"Yeah," he says. "But it's fucked up if I come and you're laying there just enduring it, waiting for me to be done."

"It's not gonna be like that," I say, placing both hands on his chest. "I just have to get used to it. I don't…" I scoff at myself. "This is embarrassing, but I don't even use tampons. I'm not used to things up there. I just need a little time."

"Promise to tell me if it hurts too much."

"I promise," I say, running my nails down his arms. "Go again."

He does. This time, even slower. The pain is lessened - still there, but not quite as bad. I take deep breaths as he sinks all the way in, and close my eyes to try and center myself. It's a new feeling, but I think I can grow to like it. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, craning my neck for a kiss that he readily gives me. "You can move now."

His hips start out rocking slowly, but increasingly pick up speed as time passes. I don't get the amazing, orgasmic feeling that I was expecting, but decide that it's okay. I can tell by his face that it's great for him, and that's enough for me. It doesn't last long, anyway. Barely a few minutes pass before he jolts, gritting his teeth together as his pelvis bucks and spasms against mine. I wrap my arms around him as he comes and kiss his shoulder and neck repeatedly, trying to get as close as humanly possible.

He's breathing heavily once he comes down and pulls out, then looks at me with concern. "You didn't…" he says, a sheen of sweat on his chest.

"It's okay," I say, brushing it off.

"No, it's not," he says, eyebrows knitting together. "I can make you come, April. You want me to?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "But I don't think it's gonna happen that way."

"No, I won't do it like that," he says, and kisses my cheek as he gets comfortable beside me. He cups my core with one hand and rubs me slowly, firmly, and I can't help but twitch against him.

"Oh," I moan softly, turning on my side so our noses are centimeters apart. "Yeah, that feels… that feels good."

"Good," he says, and presses his lips to mine as he swirls circles around my clit with his thumb. We don't break apart as he fingers me, breathing through our noses as my hips work against his hand, and when I come - I come hard. I clench his hand between my thighs and press my lips together to quell the loud groan that wants to come out. Instead, the squelched sound gets lost in his neck as he holds me and lets me ride it out.

"Holy shit," I breathe, opening my eyes to stare at his chest.

"Yeah," he says. "That's what it's supposed to feel like. I'm sorry… um, that it was shitty, when I…"

"It wasn't your fault," I say.

"It kind of was."

"No, it wasn't," I say, then look to his face. "It just gives us a reason to practice."

He laughs and kisses my forehead, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to keep me close. "I like that," he says.

I exhale softly and close my eyes for a moment, enjoying just being here with him - twined together and naked. It's a different, new sort of trust and bond that I've never had before, so I try to figure it out while soaking it in. The solace doesn't last for long, though; moments later, the doorknob shakes and someone knocks loudly, over and over again.

"April!" Ashtyn barks. "Open up, I know you're in there. Stupid ass Owen broke Grandma's vase. It's literally all over everywhere and we are going to fucking die!"

I sit up halfway, Jackson's arm still slung over my bare waist. "What?" I call.

"Everyone is leaving!" she shouts. "Get out here and help me clean this up. I'm having a full-ass meltdown!"

"Shit," I say, climbing out of bed and pulling my clothes back on haphazardly. "Um…" I look to Jackson, who's confusedly sitting up.

"Sounds like shit hit the fan down there," he says.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I gotta help her. Um… you…" I can't picture him staying. Would he sleep over? Where would we sleep? Surely not in the bed feet away from Ashtyn's. I'm ready for some time alone now. It's not that I didn't love being with him, because I did. But I can only process things when I'm by myself, and I'm on sensory overload right now.

"I'll get out of your hair," he says.

"You don't have to," I say. "If you wanna stay, you can… um, I'm just not sure…"

"Hey, it's cool," he says, pulling his shirt on. "Honestly. I'm not being weird or anything. It just seems like you have a lot of shit to take care of."

"Yeah, definitely…" I say, rubbing my arms self-consciously. He puts on his shoes and I lead the way to the bedroom door.

"Are you coming?" Ashtyn asks impatiently.

I ignore her. "I'll actually text you this time," I say, grabbing his hands. He smiles at me, then we kiss. When his lips touch mine, the strange, awkward feeling goes away for a moment. I wonder if it's normal to feel this way after having sex with someone for the first time. It's like I don't know how to act anymore, when ten minutes ago I was just fine.

"You better," he says, then I open the door.

Ashtyn raises her eyebrows but barely looks surprised. "Finally, horndogs," she says.

"Shut up," I murmur, and walk Jackson to the front door. "Get home safe," I say. "Text me when you get there?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll find some memes to send you, or something." He smiles that magic smile. "Um… I had a nice time tonight. Like, really nice. You were awesome. You… _are_ awesome."

"You, too," I say, blushing. What do you say to someone after they take your virginity? Thank you? That seems wrong. But so does everything else. "See you soon."

As soon as the door closes, Ashtyn runs to the window to watch him leave after hopping over the shards of glass on the floor. After his car pulls out of the driveway, she turns to me with wide, crazy eyes. "Did he take your V-card?" she asks.

I tie my hair into a bun and pull the broom out of the cleaning closet in the hall. I press a palm to my forehead, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Then, I calmly state, "I don't really wanna talk about it right now."

…

At first, I don't know how to act around Jackson at school. We make quick eye contact like we always used to, but I have a sense that everyone must know what we did - although, no one cares that much. I know, logically, nothing has changed on the outside. No one will look at me and know that I had sex. But everything on the inside is different. I think about sex way more, and I want to try it again. But at the same time, I'm nervous to even ask him how he's feeling. It's a stupid place to be stuck in. I usually know myself so much better than this.

So, I go into defense mode. I feel like part of the club now, the non-virgin club, but at the same time somehow like I don't belong. I let a few weeks pass where I avoid Jackson entirely - feigning being busy or dodging him before he sees me in the hall. I know it's not right; I tell him I'm tired a lot over text, which isn't a lie. School is kicking my ass, but it always does. There's nothing new there. I just have too much on my mind, but simultaneously don't want to talk about it. I just have to work through it on my own, then everything will go back to normal. I just need time, and no one seems to understand that. Not even my sister, who never stops asking me what's wrong.

Today in Calculus is no different. I'm working on a set of problems while Mr. Esterline goes over notes, but Ashtyn leans over to talk in my ear. "Hey," she whispers. "You good?"

"Fine," I say.

"You don't look so hot."

"Thanks."

"You haven't been acting yourself for like, the past month," she says.

"Yeah, I know."

"Is it 'cause you banged Jackson?"

I look at her, exasperated. "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

"Well, you don't wanna talk about it any other time, so I thought I would try while you can't run away," she says.

"I'm trying to get this done," I say, looking back to the paper and the problem I've been staring at for the better part of ten minutes. "Leave me alone."

"Damn," she says, backing away. "Fine, be a bitch. I'm just trying to help."

I shake my head and roll my eyes, then hear my name. "April, the office would like to see you," Mr. Esterline says, placing his desk phone back on its holster. "They said to bring your things."

"Are you getting signed out?" Ashtyn asks, but I'm just as confused as she is.

"I don't know," I say, gathering my binder, folder, and textbook. "I'll text you."

"Tell Mom to get me, too."

I ignore her last statement and keep my head down as I walk out of the classroom and towards my locker. I put my homework in my backpack and walk to the office with it on my back, stomach lurching with nerves for a reason I'm not even sure of. It's probably just a dentist appointment that I forgot - nothing more. Then why does it feel like I'm headed to the gallows?

I walk into the office and everything is strangely silent. The secretary looks at me and says, "Mrs. O'Connell is in her office with your mother," she says. "You can head on in."

"My mom?" I ask, but we both know it's a rhetorical question. I open the door to the office to find my mom in one of the chairs opposite the principal's desk, and Mrs. O'Connell looking at me with concern - though, it's masked with cordial politeness.

"April, it's nice to see you," she says.

"What's going on?" I ask, standing awkwardly between the empty chair and the one my mom is in.

"You should sit down," she says.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask. I look at her, wondering if she's sick or something. She looks normal, the same as she always does. Plus, why would she tell me that here? I know Ashtyn is fine, I just saw her. "Is it Dad?"

"Dad's fine," she says, but she's been crying.

"Grandma?" Suddenly, I picture my grandma dying weeks after we broke the vase she gifted my mom and dad on their wedding day. I want to throw up.

"It's nothing like that," Mom says, and I feel at least a small sense of relief. "Sit down, April."

I obey, sitting at the very edge of the chair with my backpack still on. I look at my mom, expecting her to tell me what's happening, but she's staring at Mrs. O'Connell seemingly waiting for the same thing. I've never been so confused or afraid in my life. "April," the principal begins, finally breaking the crackling silence. "I called both you and your mom in today for an important reason. I already told your mom everything… I thought it would be a little dramatic to break the news to both of you at once. Um…" She clears her throat. "You'll have to excuse me. There's really no protocol for this, but seeing as you're 17 and underage, it was pertinent that your mother hear the news first and be here when I told you. Because I assume you aren't aware."

"Aren't aware of what?" I ask, glancing between them again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mrs. O'Connell sighs. "The blood drive two weeks ago," she says. "You gave blood. Do you remember?"

"I always give blood," I say. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, not really," she says. "But in a way, for you, yes. You shouldn't have given blood in the first place - not this year."

"Why?" I ask. "I'm not on any meds. I'm healthy. I don't have anemia or anything like that; this makes no sense. I've been giving blood for three years, this was my fourth. There's never been anything wrong with my blood before." Fear jolts through my system yet again. "Wait. Do I have cancer, or something? Am I sick?"

"No," Mom says, finally speaking up and lifting her head. She looks right into my eyes when she says, "April, you're pregnant."


	3. Chapter 3

The car is silent as Mom and I head home. I'm in the passenger's seat, but I feel a million miles away from her. And even still, I wish I could go further.

I don't know why she isn't speaking. I'm sure she has plenty to say. Me, on the other hand, I'm too floored to come up with anything to fill the space. This would explain the mood swings, the ill-fitting jeans, the bloating, the soreness, the missed period. I really am an idiot; I hate myself for being so blind. Who gets pregnant after the first time they have sex? The very first time _ever_? Me, apparently.

On the outside, I'm calm. Stoic, even. But on the inside, everything is in turmoil and under duress. There's no way I can see this through. I'm not even a legal adult, and I'm expected to be somebody's mother? There's no way. There has to be a mistake. I can't even keep a goldfish alive for longer than two months, and there's supposedly a baby growing inside me? It can't be right. It isn't right.

But they saw it in my blood. It wasn't an at-home test; those things that are always faulty. No, this wasn't the stereotypical peeing on a stick moment - they saw the hormone shift in my actual blood. That means it must be legit. That means I'm with child and have been for approximately… 28 days.

I have the urge to press a hand to my stomach to see if there's a difference, but I don't dare while in such close proximity to my mother. I can't imagine what she must think of me. I used to be the twin who could do no wrong, and now what am I? The teen mom. What a great role to step into.

My mom's silence worsens with each passing mile. I almost want her to yell at me, to blow up and just scream. At least then, I would know what she's feeling. With this eerie silence, I know nothing. Everything is up in the air and nothing is for certain. And when we get home, the vibe doesn't change. We both get out of the car and head towards the front door, and when she opens it, she says, "Go upstairs. We'll talk later. I need to call your father."

"Okay," I say meekly, feeling a little strange playing the part of the child as I'm carrying one. "Are you gonna tell him?"

She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she gives me a grave look and I don't ask any more questions. I just head up the stairs into mine and Ashtyn's room and sit on the edge of my bed, not even bothering to take my shoes off. All I can do is stare. I'm not sure how long I sit there, but my eyes stay focused on a particular part of the wall on the opposite side of the room. It's a little chipped away, a slice of white cut through periwinkle, because Ashtyn once hit that spot with a hockey stick. She'd been into field hockey for about five minutes - really, she liked beating me with the stick more than anything else - and we'd been in the middle of some sort of fight to the death. After the wall took a hit, her stick privileges were taken away as was her spot on the team. We were probably 11. It feels like yesterday, while at the same time, a lifetime ago.

The sky begins to turn purple and not much later, a car pulls up in the driveway. Due to the clatter of shoes and a backpack when the front door comes open, I know it's my sister. Still, I don't move a muscle. I hear her footsteps stomp up the stairs without pausing to greet our mom, then she pushes the door open and appears in front of me. "Yo," she says. "What the hell is going on?"

I don't answer, and she turns around to take off the sweater she wore to school today. As she pulls on a t-shirt, she looks over her shoulder to shoot me an expectant expression.

"Hello?" she says. "'Cause one minute you're biting my head off in Calc, the next you're gone. Everyone's like, where'd April go? And I'm like, I don't know shit! So, what happened? Where did Mom take you? How come you got to leave and I didn't? Traitor."

I still don't open my mouth. It's almost like I can't. I don't want Ashtyn to know, even though she's the person I trust more than anyone else. I can't stomach the thought of her knowing this huge mistake I made. It was never supposed to happen. I don't want her to think less of me; I don't want _anyone _to think less of me. I know Mom already does.

"Hey, asshole," she says, changing into sweatpants and out of her jeans. "You go mute?"

I shake my head no.

"Oil can?" she asks, then mimes the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. "Oil can! Open your mouth, dummy."

I draw my feet up onto the bed, knees bent towards my chin. I wrap my arms around my shins and shrink myself to the smallest version I can, then duck my head. It's like when I was little and thought if I couldn't see the seeker in hide-and-seek, they couldn't see me. Explains why I always lost.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" she asks, but her tone isn't sympathetic, it's annoyed. "You're pissing me off with the dramatics." I shake my head again, which makes her scoff and roll her eyes. "Whatever," she says. "Sit there and act stupid. It's what you do best."

"Shut up," I croak, my voice hoarse from holding back tears.

"Oh, so you'll use your voice to tell me to shut up, okay," she says, rolling her eyes yet again. "You're annoying as shit today."

With a small whimper, I turn to face the wall - unable to look at my sister anymore. I keep my knees pulled into my chest and clench every muscle in my body, from my calves to my jaw, so hard that I start to shake. Maybe, if I try hard enough, I can will the baby away and it'll turn out to be a big fluke.

I'm not sure how long I lay in bed, unblinking, staring at the wall, but my eyes stay completely dry as I do. The only thing that stops me from disappearing into myself and never being seen again is my mom's voice in the doorway. "April," she says, and it makes me jump. The room had been so silent. Ashtyn put her headphones in and the only sound was that of a pencil on paper as she did homework. I roll my husk of a body over, meeting Mom's eyes. "Dad and I need to talk to you downstairs."

Ashtyn sits up and pulls her earbuds out. "What's going on?" she asks.

Mom looks at her and I wonder how she'll answer. Will she just come right out and say it? Will she sweep it under the rug and act like our lives aren't about to be turned on their heads? "This is something we need to discuss with April alone," she says.

"What's with all the secretive shit?"

"Watch your mouth, Ashtyn Rose," Mom snaps, pointing at my sister.

I follow my mom dutifully without looking back at my bristling sister. When we make it downstairs, my dad is already in the den in his favorite chair, tracing the rim of the water glass beside him. I sit on the couch with Mom a cushion away and stare at my knees. I wait for them to speak because I know it's not my place to jump in with apologies or excuses. I don't know what I'd say even if I wanted to talk.

"April…" Dad says, drawing out my name like he's trying to find the words that come after. "The only question I can think to ask is… how did this happen?"

"Well, you know how it happened," Mom says tersely.

"She knows what I mean," he says, and though I'm not looking up I can tell his eyes are heavy on me. "You know how pregnancy works. We've had the talk, you learned about contraception, I thought you knew better. Just… how? How could you be so short-sighted?"

"Since when are you even having sex?!" Mom asks, and her tone is nowhere near as calm as my dad's. "This is not like you. You… you didn't tell us, you didn't… I thought you were a virgin."

"I was," I say softly. "It was my first time. I didn't think it would happen on…"

"Well," Mom says, moving to sit back with her arms crossed. "That ship has sailed."

"How long ago did it happen?" Dad asks.

I think back, trying to accurately count the days. "Four weeks," I say.

"A month," Dad says. "A month ago, when Mom and I were in London?" I nod silently. He sighs and says, "Yeah."

"I just don't… I can't…" Mom says, burying her face in her palms as she leans forward, elbows on her knees. "I'm so disappointed in you, April. You've always known better. Don't you understand how this interferes with your future? What about Duke? How could you not _think_?"

"I don't know," I murmur.

Mom sighs. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just… it was an easily-avoidable mistake."

"It's also a baby," Dad points out, then grabs my attention. "April, what do you want to do about it?"

I pick my head up and try to look at him. It doesn't quite work. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"The choice is yours," he says. "You're not legally an adult, but you were adult enough for this to happen. So, it's your job to decide how to move forward."

"Like…?" I say, not finishing the sentence. I think I know what he means, but it feels like too big of a choice for me to shoulder. It's not my place to decide whether or not this baby lives or not. Or… is it? I guess it is. But something that important doesn't feel like it should be allowed on me.

"There's adoption, abortion, and keeping it," he says. "Each option is heavy."

"I have to choose right now?" I peep.

"No," Mom says, running her fingers through her hair while shooting Dad a look. "But within the next couple weeks, yes."

I stare at my knees again. I still can't believe this is happening to me, of all people. There's a long pocket of silence until I fill it with the words, "I'm sorry."

Dad replies with, "I know."

"Was it Matt?" Mom asks out of nowhere. I look at her with knitted eyebrows, thoroughly confused. "The neighbor boy," she continues. "Is he the father?"

"What?" I snap, recoiling. "Oh my god, no."

"He's the only boy you know," Mom says.

"No, he's not," I say defensively. "I know other boys. It's not him. I would never… not with him."

"Well, we need to know who the father is, honey," Dad says.

"You don't know him," I mutter, chewing the inside of my cheek.

"What's his name?"

I let out a long sigh, then lift my eyes to the ceiling. They've begun to grow hot, which means I'll inevitably start crying soon. That's the last thing I want. What I need, more than anything, is to get out of this room. I can't handle the way their eyes feel on me. "Jackson Avery," I say.

My nose burns. I know my face must be red. Mom says, "Well, I'll give his mother a call."

"No," I say, blurting out the word. She looks shocked, eyebrows coming together. "At least… can I tell him first?" I ask. "He doesn't know. Please, just let me tell him. Please."

My parents lock eyes and communicate silently, and I look between them as they do. "Fine," Mom says. "But I'm calling his mother tomorrow night. That's how long you have."

"Alright," I say, throat closing with each passing second. "Can I please go now?"

"Go ahead," Mom says, sounding defeated. I know I've let them down; I've let myself down, too. I can't bear to think about it, because if I start, I'm only going to spiral.

As I head up the stairs, the tears come with no plans of stopping anytime soon. I barge into mine and Ashtyn's room and she looks up from her homework, taking her earbuds out yet again. "Dude, are you okay?" she asks, and I do what feels right, which is stumbling over to her bed and collapsing against her. She shoves her books and papers to the side and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as my whole body racks with uncontrollable sobs. "Hey… chill, breathe, it's alright," she says.

"It's not!" I wail.

"Will you just tell me what's going on?" she asks.

I sniffle to try and catch my breath, but it doesn't happen My words come out forced and broken, choked at best. "I'm pregnant," I say, then squeeze my eyes shut tight and press my face into her shoulder.

"Shit," she says under her breath. "Holy shit."

I continue to cry, loud and hard, and my sister stays exactly where she is. She rubs my outer arm and I do my best to try and rein myself in, but nothing holds. "I'm sorry," I manage to say, after it feels like I've been crying forever.

"Don't apologize," she says quietly. "It's okay to let it out. Just cry. It's alright."

So, I do. I cry so hard that when I stop, my eyes look bruised and blue with puffiness. They're bloodshot beyond repair and I barely recognize my own face. But even so, Ashtyn wipes my tear-stained cheeks and tucks my damp hair behind my ears, then gives me a melancholy grin. She doesn't need to say anything to fill the weighted silence, because I already know every word she'd say. Even when it feels like no one else is on my side, she always has been.

…

I can't imagine anything worse than running into Jackson in the hall and having to explain my behavior, so I avoid him for one more day. Then, I go to the gym as he's there during basketball practice and sit on the highest level of bleachers - though, in a small school, that's not necessarily very far away from the court. He makes eye contact with me twice then ignores me for the rest of practice. I know I deserve that.

At 5, when it's done, I stand up and walk slowly down the stairs with my hands on the straps of my backpack. He doesn't head to the locker room with everyone else, instead, he stays to shoot hoops - while still pretending I'm not there. I know he stays for a reason, though. Otherwise, he would have already left to change.

"Hey," I say, standing on the sidelines. He meets my eyes for a brief second before shooting a clean three-pointer. "Nice."

"Thanks."

"You were good in practice, too."

"Thanks."

I take a deep breath and try to make my mouth less dry than it is. It's easier said than done, though, when my body seems to be against producing any saliva. "Um… I was wondering if we could talk," I say.

He shoots from the free-throw line and sinks it, no backboard. "We're talking now," he says.

"Well, I know, but…" I sigh. "I mean, like… _talk_ talk."

He raises his eyebrows, though he doesn't look at me. "So, _now _you wanna talk," he says. "You tired of ignoring me, or something? Did it get old after a month?"

"Jackson…" I say. "There's a lot you don't know, and…"

"How _would_ I know when you haven't said a fuckin' word to me since your party?" he asks. "Acting like I don't exist and shit. Damn, April."

"I know… I know it was wrong, but I was just as confused as you," I say.

"I doubt that."

"I was."

"I texted, I called… I even DM'd you, shit! But you made it clear you didn't want anything to do with me. Just a hookup, I guess. Which... that's cool, but it would've been nice to know before I got all invested."

"You're invested?" I ask.

He gives me a look I can't make heads or tails of. "I don't know anymore," he says.

"It wasn't just a hookup," I say.

"Yeah, well."

"It wasn't, I swear," I say, walking off the sidelines and onto the court.

He positions himself to shoot a basket, but I take the ball out of his hands before he can. "Hey!" he exclaims.

"Talk to me," I say. "Will you please just sit down?"

We lock eyes and keep contact for a long time, neither of us backing down. His jaw is set tight and I'm sure mine is, too; I don't plan on giving in first. Luckily, he caves. "Fine," he says.

We walk to the bleachers and sit down in the first row. "No one's gonna come in, are they?" I ask.

"Guys all left out the back," he says. "Janitor doesn't come 'til like, 10."

"Good," I say, still holding onto the ball. I turn it this way and that between my palms, studying the small bumps on its surface. "So… I guess I should just come out and say it." I stare at the swooping black lines on the basketball as the words pass my lips. "I'm pregnant."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, and I can't bear to look and see what expression he wears. All I do is let my eyes go numb on the basketball, hoping he'll think of words to fill the space with eventually. "Um, okay…" he says, stammering a little. "Are you sure you took the test right?"

I chew the inside of my lower lip. I don't know what I expected him to say, but I guess it shouldn't have been more than that. It wasn't like he was going to lift me up and spin me around, overjoyed that we're teen parents. "It wasn't like that," I say. "I didn't pee on a stick. They saw the hormone in my blood. It's for sure."

"Yeah… yeah," he says, then clears his throat. "But it was just… just one time."

"Yep."

"So… what do you wanna do?" he asks, sounding as clueless as I feel.

It's the furthest thing from comforting. I already have a million questions zipping through my head, and all he does is add more. "I don't know," I say, sounding a bit desperate. "What do _you_ wanna do?"

"Well… I don't know," he says, mirroring my statement. He runs his hands up and down his thighs. "I just found out. You're the girl, don't you get to decide?"

I roll my eyes, suddenly ticked. "Great," I say. "Great. So, then it's all on me?"

"No," he says quickly. "No… I didn't mean…" He lets out a short, heavy sigh. "Shit. Should we get married?"

"'Shit, should we get married,'" I repeat, deadpan, nodding with tight lips. "Yeah." He looks over and I can't help but glare sarcastically. "No, it's just when you put it like that, it's…"

"Oh, well I'm sorry, April, I'm just trying to do the right thing here. I didn't mean to-"

"Then don't ask the wrong questions! I…" I stand up, dropping the ball and watching it bounce away without direction. "Just, um… forget I said anything."

I turn to walk away and he stands, too. "No," he says.

"Whatever, I'll figure it out. Whatever it is, it's not your problem," I say, palms up. I don't know why I'm reacting like this, but I'm just so angry. How come he gets to spew all this stupid stuff, react in such a stupid way, while I'm the one shouldering the responsibility? It isn't fair. He helped put us in this position but he's doing nothing to help now. "Just forget it."

"April," he says loudly, trying to call me back as I walk towards the doors.

"It's fine, I have to get home, anyway," I say, crossing my arms and hunching my shoulders. I pick up the pace as I throw open the gym door, heading down the long hall to where the pool is. I don't check behind me to see if Jackson is following; instead, I keep my eyes down until I reach the other doors. When I go through them, I see my sister sitting on the edge of the pool in her school-issued swimsuit, goggles and swim cap. She gives me a wave and a gentle smile, and I do my best to return both. Her practice is for another hour yet, so I have plenty of time to ruminate in this humid room.

I don't last long in there, though. My hair starts to frizz and annoy me, and my stomach is growling louder than the coach's whistle. So, I get up and go out in the hallway again in search of the vending machine, only to find Jackson standing right by it. I start to turn around and head back towards the gym to avoid him, but he speaks before I can get far. "I'm not gonna forget it," he says. "Let me drive you home."

…

At first, Jackson and I are quiet in the car, but it isn't like the silence yesterday with my mom. It's not crackling with words we aren't saying, but instead full of curiosity of what we _should _say. I still don't know what the right thing is and I'm sure he doesn't, either.

I look out the window, noticing that we aren't on the quickest route to my neighborhood. "Are you taking the long way?" I ask, watching the trees.

He glances over quickly before looking forward again. "I… yeah," he says. "Is that okay? I was just hoping… I don't know, that it might give us a chance to talk before…"

"Yeah," I say. "Also, you should know that my parents want to meet you."

"Well, they kinda need to," he says. "I, uh, I planned on coming in. When I dropped you off. I was gonna introduce myself."

"Oh," I say.

"That okay?"

"Yeah," I say, pushing my hair out of my face. "Yeah. They'll be happy."

"Are you?"

"Huh?"

"Are _you_ happy?"

I move my lips to one side and trace the shape of my knees with my thumbs. I don't know how to answer that question. Does it make me an evil person to not be happy about a baby inside me? My body is currently doing what a lot of women's can't - women who want a child so badly. Why should I squander this opportunity? Does that make me selfish? Does that make me so, so childish? I am a child, though. Aren't I allowed to act like what I am?

"No," I say, surprising myself with the blunt answer. "I mean… I don't know. Are you?"

"Didn't really think this would ever be me."

"Yeah, me neither," I say. "At all."

"Yeah."

"But now that it is…" I shrug.

"Did you want kids?" he asks. "Like, in the future? Was that something you ever thought about, or…?" He shakes his head. "Sorry, stupid question."

"It's not… it's not stupid," I say. "Yeah. When I was little, I talked about it all the time. Like, someone would ask me, 'what do you wanna be when you grow up?' and I'd always answer, 'a mommy.'" I laugh a little. "But I was little. My mom likes that story a lot, though. I love kids… I've babysat since I was old enough to… and like, having kids when I'm grown up was always something I wanted, but… I'm not grown up yet."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Did you?" I ask. "Want kids?"

"Oh," he says. "Yeah. I think. I don't know, never really thought about it that much. My answer when I was a kid was always 'firefighter.' Would've been cute if I answered that I wanted to be a dad, though. Then we'd make a perfect match."

I laugh a little, humorlessly. "Yeah," I say. "That would be cute."

"But now we don't get a choice, really," he says. "We're pretty much in this now."

He reaches over and takes the hand that's resting on my thigh, and I flip it over to intertwine our fingers. "Well, we do," I say. "Have a choice. And we should probably talk about that." I let my eyes dart to his face to see he's still watching the road. "I was supposed to go to Duke in the fall." I trace his thumbnail - wide and sturdy. "Don't you have plans, too?"

"Well, yeah," he says. "Basketball scholarship. Villanova wants me… so does Kentucky. I still have to choose."

"So what does that mean?" I ask. "We can't have a baby in college."

"People do it a lot, I think," he says.

"In two different colleges?" I say. "Living on-campus. Don't you want to dorm?"

"I want…" he trails off. "Dorming doesn't really matter to me. You know… where I live, I don't give a shit. I honestly don't even give a shit about the school I go to. Duke is like, amazing for basketball, too, did you know that? I could apply there. Hella late, but… I'm a beast, so they'd probably pay _me_ to go there…"

He laughs, but I don't smile. I'm not sure what he's getting at. "What are you saying?" I ask. "That you wanna keep it?"

At a stoplight, he looks at me to try and gauge how I'm feeling. I can tell by the look in his eyes. "I don't want what I want to change what _you _want," he says. "If you don't want it, I'm with you. I'm behind you. I'll drive you to the place, if you want. But at the same time, yeah… I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure about really anything, but I think you're a cool person. Cool is a stupid word to use in this situation, but I have feelings for you and I don't think we'd be the worst at raising a kid. I like being around you. You make me better. I don't really know if that makes sense, 'cause I tend to say stupid shit around you, but…" He clears his throat. "I'll support whatever decision you make," he says. "But I think bringing a whole ass life into the world with you would be pretty damn cool."

I smile. A real smile. "A whole ass life," I say, keeping the grin as I squeeze his hand.

"Yeah," he says, a smile growing on his face, too. "You like that one?"

I nod and say, "Uh-huh." I stroke the top of his hand and watch his fingers clasp mine. "I wanna keep it, too," I say. "It's scary to say that out loud. But I do. I have no idea how we'll figure it out… or what people will think, but I guess I don't really care."

"Nah, fuck 'em," he says. "We got each other."

"Yeah," I say, then lean to rest my head on his shoulder. "We should go home. You can meet my parents."

…

A month later, Jackson, my parents and I are in the stands watching Ashtyn embarrass herself on the volleyball court. She's taking my spot for the season - I'm not showing yet, but I don't want to take any risks. Volleyball clothes are tight and there's a lot of stomach diving; the last thing I want is to hurt the baby. So, after a lot of cajoling and plenty of bribing, she agreed to sub for me and my coach agreed, too. I lied and said I have mono.

The problem is that Ashtyn has no hand-eye coordination to speak of. She hasn't hit the ball once this game, and she got it one time in the last one, but sent it sailing out of bounds. "This is painful to watch," Jackson murmurs.

"She's trying," I say, though I tend to wonder if she really is. Right now, she's standing with her hip popped to one side, studying her nails. The other team serves and I watch it happen in slow motion - the ball flying over the net right towards her - it would be a perfect shot, if she were paying attention. But since she's not, it slams against the side of her head and sends her stumbling backwards, eventually falling on her butt.

"Shit!" she curses, and I can't help but laugh. I hear my mom chuckle, too, but covers it up by clearing her throat.

"This is really not her sport," Dad mutters.

Then, Lexie walks by carrying a bag of popcorn in one hand and a pop can under her arm. She catches my eye, then looks to the court where Ashtyn is. "Hey, April…" she says, confused. "Why aren't you playing?"

Volleyball isn't exactly a popular spectator sport. It's not like basketball or football, where the general public comes and can see that I'm not on the court. So, most people aren't aware that I haven't been playing for the last few weeks.

"Mono," I say, using the excuse I've come to get used to. I don't like lying to my friend, but it's better than telling the truth. I know that in a few months, it'll be glaringly obvious, but I have some time until then. It's still something I can keep between myself and the people who need to know. Jackson and my parents agree - it's not something that needs to be spread until there's no way around it.

"Ew, that sucks," she says, then eyes Jackson with a smile. "Guess we can thank you for that?"

He looks puzzled for a minute, then I covertly nudge him with my elbow. "Kissing disease," I murmur, faking a smile.

"Oh, right!" he says, then forces laughter. "Yep. All me. I infected her."

"You aren't contagious anymore, are you?" Lexie asks, taking a subtle step back. "Either of you?"

"Oh no," I say. "Just kinda fragile still. Like… our spleens, and stuff."

"Right…" she says. "Spleens. Yeah. Okay, well my mom is waiting for me. I'll see you in Psych on Monday."

"See you," I say, waving as she walks away.

"How come I have to look like the nasty one whenever we tell people that?" Jackson asks. "I feel like the booger guy on the Mucinex commercials. The minute we say mono, everyone acts like we said the black plague. Like, now I know what the rats in the 13th century felt like."

"Oh my god, shut up," I say, rolling my eyes. "Those rats deserved to feel that way. They killed millions of people."

"That's how Lexie just looked at me!" he says, then gives himself buck teeth and makes a rat-like sound. "You have any cheese?"

I laugh and shove him away with both hands, turning my head as he makes the same chomping sound near my ear. "Get away!" I squeal, until he grabs me by the waist and pulls me comfortably closer.

"Okay, okay, no more rat," he says. "Unless you wanna be my mouse."

"Mice are way cuter," I point out.

"Then it fits," he says, kissing my cheek. "Little mouse."

…

Seeing as I'm already pregnant and not much more can happen, my parents let me sleep over at Jackson's sometimes. Never on school nights, but since it's a Friday, they let me go home with him. His mom isn't here, she's away on business, so we have the house to ourselves.

He turns on the light in his bedroom then jumps onto his bed, flopping down with his arms behind his head. "You're gonna break that thing one day," I say. He always lands on it like that.

"You will," he says. "When you aren't a mouse anymore and you sit on it with that big belly."

"Whatever," I say, snorting as I walk past his mirror. Stuck in the corner is a black-and-white piece of paper that I recognize as our sonogram from the week before. There's not much to see yet, just a mass of gray, but something warm and fuzzy flutters in my chest as I trace its lower edges. "You put this up?" I ask.

He cranes his neck to see what I'm looking at, then smiles. "Oh," he says. "Yeah. I was gonna get a frame, but then I liked her right there where I can see her."

I turn to face him, asking, "Her?"

He smiles, his lips moving to one side a bit shyly. "I got a feeling the other day," he says. "Just feels like it's a girl."

"Maybe," I say. "What do you want it to be?"

He shrugs and says, "Anything. As long as it has ten fingers and ten toes… but honestly, even if it had like, seventeen of each, I'd still be cool with it. We could definitely ball."

I can't help my grin. "You are such an idiot," I say.

"Nah," he says, then grabs his phone. "Here. I wanna get a picture of you."

"No…" I say, outstretching my arm with spread-out fingers to try and block his shot. "I look horrible right now. Don't." He smiles behind the phone that he's holding up. "What?" I ask.

"Stop, stop, stop," he says. "Just turn to the side." His joy is contagious, so I can't help but give in. I do as he suggested, turning to the side and lifting my shirt. "Flash me the belly, I wanna see it. Come on."

I look down, cupping my stomach that's begun to look the tiniest bit different. "I know," I say. "I'm finally starting to show a little."

I join him on the bed and look at the phone, studying the picture he took. "I'm gonna take one every week," he says.

"Nice."

"Watch you two grow."

"It's a good one," I say, referencing the picture as I get comfortable next to him.

He props himself up on an elbow and rubs my stomach, looking at it as he says, "Hey, little peanut."

He's looking at my belly, but all I'm doing is staring at his face and feeling a thousand things. The best I can do is voice one of the million thoughts. "I'm really glad you're here," I say.

"Yeah?" he says, still rubbing my belly as he looks into my eyes.

"Yeah."

He smirks a little, pulling me in for a kiss before saying, "Where else would I be?"

…

One more week passes, and like most Fridays, I'm at Jackson's house again. This time, after a basketball game instead of a failed volleyball game. He's tired out, sleeping soundly as I crawl out of his big bed and avoid the clothes on the floor as I walk to the bathroom. I pour myself a glass of water in a Dixie cup and drink it slowly, feeling achey. It's not anything new; as my body grows and changes, I've had to get used to a lot of unusual feelings. I'm just not accustomed to being sore all the time. Staying in shape is hard when I'm constantly tired.

Physically tired, but not mentally. It's almost midnight, but my mind won't rest. I get back in bed next to him and he stops snoring momentarily, adjusting closer to me. He cocoons his body around mine, tucking his face into the back of my neck while letting out a long sigh. I smile to myself and mesh our fingers together, closing my eyes to try and convince myself to sleep. I have plenty of things to worry about, but also plenty of things to be happy about. That should be enough to soothe me. And if it isn't, the way Jackson's body feels wrapped around mine surely is.

I must fall asleep relatively quickly, but I wake up a few hours later. It's still dark outside without a hint of sunrise, but something is wrong. My body feels off. I blink hard, trying to locate the problem, when I realize there's wetness between my legs. I slip one hand beneath the covers and pull it back out to find my fingers tinged red. I sit up with a gasp, then say his name.

"Jackson," I say, voice shaking. "Wake up." He grunts, moving to look at me as I say, "I'm bleeding."


	4. Chapter 4

thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing! this little ficlet was fun - and now has come to a close. and now that its over, i can tell you it was inspired by rosie and marco's storyline in the movie 'what to expect when you're expecting.' if you havent seen that movie, you definitely should! please dont forget to review this final chapter!

…

The pain that ripples through me is something I was promised. It shouldn't surprise me as much as it does, I know that, but I've never experienced anything like it. I realize, in that moment, that there is no one stronger than a woman in labor. This will be the hardest thing I ever do. I'm giving life to another human being. I'm forcing them into the world. Who else but me could do this for my own child? No one.

I bear down, chin to chest like the midwife showed me, and clench Jackson's hand as hard as I can. I don't care if I'm hurting him, but I'm sure that I am. He doesn't show it, though. All he does is support me - touching my fingers only. I won't let him touch me anywhere else, it hurts too much and I'm too uncomfortable. I need to do this on my own. He can't help. This is my duty as a mother. It's my job to bring her here. I can do it. He can't.

"One more big push, April!"

I don't know who says it and I don't care. I close my eyes tight and scream, throwing my head back once all my energy is spent. There's a great release, the pressure between my legs lets up and I deflate entirely. I know she must be out, but I don't hear a thing. The room is silent, quieter than anything I've known. I can't even hear myself breathe. I can't hear _her_ breathe, either.

I turn to Jackson. "Where is she?" I ask him, withered.

"She's coming," he assures me, one hand still wrapped around mine.

Then, the nurse walks over holding a bundle, but that bundle isn't moving. Isn't squirming or crying - it's completely still. I know, in that instant, that it must be my child. I never felt her kick. She was so sedentary. Never had much of a will to move.

"Would you like to meet your daughter?" the nurse asks, and I nod. Of course, I nod.

With a smile, she lowers the wrap of blankets to my chest and for the first time, I crane my neck to meet my child. Her weight settles in my arms, damper than I imagined, but light. I can't see her; the blankets are in the way.

"Move them," Jackson says. "I wanna see her face."

So, I do. With one tentative finger, I peel the thin blanket back from where her face should be. But instead of a baby, there's a mess of blood. When I bare the mass further, all I see is red and black. Thick clots coat the inside of the blanket and my arms, then drip to the floor when I shift - horrified.

"She's beautiful," Jackson says. "She looks just like you."

I look at him with disgust, then to the bloody mess that cannot be my child.

Then, I scream as loud and long as I can.

I jolt awake with a gasp, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. My heart is racing, and my whole body is sweating. Beside me, Jackson sits in a chair where he must have been slumped to the side - he's on his way to sitting up now. "You okay?" he asks, slurring a bit. I don't remember either of us falling asleep and I have no clue what time it is. For a moment, I don't know what happened. Then, it all comes back.

I lost her. I miscarried and bled out what little I held. Now, I carry nothing. Back to how I was. I'm empty again.

I answer him honestly and say, "No."

He sits up straighter. "What's wrong?"

I cover my face with my hands and lay back; tears soak my palms instantly. "Everything," I say. It sounds dramatic, even to myself, but it's nothing short of the truth.

"Can I…" His sentence breaks off as he leans forward and tries to get me to look at him. I meet his eyes through my fingers for a split second, but look away just as fast. "Can I get you anything?" he asks.

I lower my hands and look at him, shaking my head no. His eyes are wet, too, but the tears don't spill. I'm long past that stage. My cheeks are soaked by this point; I'm crying without giving any sort of permission. I just am. I don't think I'll ever stop.

I try to catch my breath, wiping beneath my nose with my hand. I don't care how gross it is. "It's my fault. I wished it," I say.

"Don't say that," he says quickly, almost as if he knew I'd go there. "It's not your fault. Okay?"

We sit in silence for a while. The same silence from the dream; the same stillness. "I never even felt a kick," I murmur. I stare at my hands in my lap - the chipped fingernail polish, the bitten cuticles. It's so high school. It's so young. We were never ready, anyway. It was stupid to think we were. "Congratulations," I say, which catches his attention. It's a strange word to say given the circumstance. "You're off the hook."

Then, he understands. "April, don't say that," he says. I lay down, turning onto my side to face away from him. "Hey," he says, standing up. "April, hey."

He gets up and walks to the other side of the bed so he can look at me. I look back, moving only my eyes. "We're not a couple," I say. "We've never even been on a real date, you know? I think we can do ourselves a favor and stop pretending."

His eyebrows come together and anger passes over his features. He looks like he did the day I confronted him on the basketball court. Stubborn. Then, he dug his heels in to ignore me. Now, he digs them in to keep me. "Why are you talking like that?" he asks, blinking rapidly. "I want to be there for you." He sighs and his voice weakens. "I want to support you. I always wanted that."

"There's no reason," I croak. "There's nothing to support."

"There's you!" he says.

"The reason you stuck around was because of the baby," I say. "And there is no baby. So, you're free. You can go."

"No," he says. "That's the reason _you_ stuck around. I wanted to be with you from the start, but you pulled away. You only started paying attention to me once you found out you were pregnant." His chin quivers. I've never seen him like this. It's not surprising that I haven't, though; I barely know him. "Just say you don't want anything to do with me. You never did. Stop trying to push all that on me."

"Fine," I say, shaking. "I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to be with you."

The first tear escapes and slips down his cheek, rolling under his chin and out of view. More follow, creating steady streams down his face. "You don't mean it," he says.

"You just told me to say it," I argue, clenching my jaw.

"Not if you don't mean it."

"I can't look at you," I say, turning onto my opposite side. "Please, just go."

"April, I wanna help."

"You can help me by leaving me alone," I say. "I don't wanna see you."

I close my eyes as tightly as I can, hoping that by the time I blink, I'll be alone. I wait a long time, until my breath comes more evenly and my heart rate slows. Then, I open my eyes. And for the first time since it happened, I get what I want.

…

I hate the phrase 'lost a baby.' I know where my baby went. I didn't lose her. I bled her out.

Technically, there wasn't enough of her formed to know the sex. But something tells me she was a girl, or would have been. But that's something I'll never know for certain, no matter how long I live. Because she didn't live.

I didn't get to hold her in my arms, say goodbye, or rock her towards heaven. She exited my body in the form of black blood, clotted and messy - shocking as it streaked my inner thighs. That was all I ever knew of her. All I'll ever see of her.

It's a horrible image to manifest, so I try to forget it.

I left the hospital without saying goodbye to Jackson. I couldn't find him and I didn't look. When I asked him to go, he left. Simple as that. My mom asked about him but all I could answer with was a shrug. I'm giving myself tonight to mourn, to disappear within the shell of grief. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow is new.

When my mom walks me inside the house, I let her help me. She shoulders half my weight and helps me out of my shoes, looking at me like she doesn't know who I am. I don't say anything, I just meet her eyes - the same color as mine. Hers are wet with tears and mine haven't yet dried.

"Do you wanna talk, sweetheart?" she asks, standing to her full height again. She swipes a bit of hair away from my face and traces the apple of my cheek. Her hands are soft.

"I want to go to bed," I say, though the sun shines through the picture window in the front room. "Can I go to bed?"

"Of course," she says, nodding as if to solidify her words.

I retire upstairs and feel her eyes on me the whole way. I know she and Dad will probably talk in hushed tones in the living room, will wonder what to do next. I'm glad I'm not with them. I don't want to hear that conversation. I know what needs to happen next. I need to take a shower, get changed, and go to sleep. When I wake up, I can try again.

I hear Ashtyn come in much later. I was only lightly sleeping, almost waiting for her. It didn't feel right being in the room alone, and I settle once the door shuts. Usually, when I go to bed first and she comes in after, she doesn't bother being quiet. We're too used to existing in the same space. But tonight is different. Her feet barely make a sound as they pad across the carpet and she opens her dresser drawers extra slow. I don't hear her clothes shift, and she sits on her bed gently, so it doesn't creak. This isn't the Ashtyn I know. I don't like the buffer she's put between us. In thinking I've changed, she's made herself different. I make a silent vow to myself not to let it stay that way. I need tomorrow to come faster.

Luckily, once I know my sister is in her bed, I fall asleep quickly and deeply. I wake in the morning as she's stirring, responding to her alarm, and her eyes open fully once she sees that I'm up. "Sorry," she says, tapping her phone screen repeatedly until the noise stops. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."

"No," I say, standing to make my bed like I always do.

"It's early," she says. "It's Saturday."

"I know," I say, smoothing the covers. "And early on Saturdays, I have volleyball. So, I'm up."

"You don't…" she says, eyebrows furrowed when I turn around. "You don't have volleyball. I do."

"Not anymore," I say, then narrow my eyes at her. "I'm going back. You can be done subbing for me. I'm gonna play."

I don't know if she knows. I can't tell. "But what about…?" she asks.

I don't wait for her to fill in the gap. "There's no baby," I say, then pick up my practice uniform from the foot of her bed. "I'm going."

…

When I go back to school on Monday, nothing is different. At least, that's what I've convinced myself of. No one but the 'need-to-know' people were even aware I was pregnant, so the fact that I'm not anymore only makes life easier. If anything, I act more like my old self. More recognizable than I have been for the last handful of weeks.

I go to all my classes, my student council meeting, and volleyball practice. My body is sore come the end of the day in a way I'm not used to, but I push that out of my mind. I can power through. My body doesn't get to tell me what to do or how to feel anymore. I'm the boss. I'm in control. And I say, I'm fine.

I don't see Jackson all day, not even in passing. And I'd been dreading it, too. The fact that I don't see him makes it clear that he must be avoiding me, which I guess I expected. Isn't that what I told him to do? I said I didn't want to see him. And that was true, in the moment. Seeing his face reminded me of the one I would never get to hold close. Reminded me of what belonged halfway to him. But the complete absence of him makes it feel like he never existed and the baby didn't, either. Like it was all some nightmare I conjured up.

The sympathetic looks I get from my parents and sister at home negate that thought, though.

"You didn't have to go back today, honey," Mom says, setting the table. Ashtyn is already sitting there, doing Calculus homework that I finished in class. Today was one of my most productive days this year. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. I did great.

"I wanted to," I state simply, grabbing a handful of silverware.

"Well…" Mom says, sighing. "I don't know if it was for the best. That paired with volleyball on Saturday and tonight? You're gonna burn out. You might hurt yourself."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," she says.

"You don't know how I feel," I say, trying to keep my tone light.

"I can only imagine," she says. "Your body needs time to recover. It just went through trauma. If you do too much too fast, you're gonna cause damage, sweetie."

"Well, the damage already happened," I say. Ashtyn's pencil has stopped moving. It's clear she's listening. I don't care.

"I know…" Mom trails off, pausing with an empty glass in her hand. "Dad and I think it might do you some good to talk to someone. A grief counselor, maybe."

"I'm not grieving," I lie. "I got up this morning and I went to school. I got more done today than I have in literal months. I'm fine, mom. You can stop worrying about me, seriously. I'm not holed up in my room, refusing to get out of bed. _That_ would be grieving. _Then_ you could worry."

"That would be normal."

"I'm perfectly _fine_," I insist for what feels like the thousandth time. "I don't wanna talk to a counselor. I'm not going crazy."

"No… no, that's not what I'm saying. I know you're not going crazy. Far from it. You're hurting. You-"

"But I'm not, though!" I say, dropping the silverware with a clatter. Ashtyn jumps. "I'm fine, mom. I'm fucking fine!"

I close my mouth instantly. I hadn't meant to curse. I press my lips tightly together and feel my eyes grow hot, but I refuse to cry. Someone who's 'fine' doesn't cry.

Mom looks at me with something unreadable in her eyes. They're damp, though, and glistening. "I think you should spend some time up in your room," she says, which is her gentle way of telling me to get upstairs. Now. "I'll make a plate for you."

After closing the bedroom door, I sit cross-legged on my bed and open _Heart of Darkness_, something we were assigned in AP Lit today. I don't absorb much; really, my eyes just scan the letters and words without making anything of them at all. But it gives me something to hold, something to do, until the door comes open and Ashtyn walks in carrying two plates.

"Here," she says, setting one next to me.

"Thanks."

She goes to sit on her own bed, resting against the wall with her legs straight. Her eyes are on me, unwavering, and I match them. "Mom was just trying to be nice," she says.

"Yeah, well…" I say, stabbing a piece of chicken.

"It's true," she says. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like… all hard and stuff. Like it doesn't affect you. I know it does. There's no way everything is as fine as you're making it seem. It's a great mask and all, but…" She shrugs and shakes her head. "You're gonna kill yourself with it."

"Kill myself after one day, yeah," I say, raising my eyebrows and nodding sarcastically.

"Don't be like that," she says, wounded. "It's sad. It's… it's horrible, what happened."

"You don't know," I say. "You weren't there."

"Yeah, but Mom told me about it."

"But still, you weren't there."

"I'm saying what happened in general is horrible!" she says. "Why are you acting like it wasn't?"

"Of course it was," I say, frowning.

"You're not even sad," she says, voice thickening with tears. "Or… or you are, but you're acting like everything is normal and fine because you think you have to, or something. You don't. You can cry and be mad and sad and whatever the fuck. It's okay. You lost a baby."

"I didn't lose her," I say, lowering my voice.

"Well, she's gone," Ashtyn says. She had agreed with me before - the baby would be a girl. There was no doubt in our minds. After she got paid from working the concession stand, we were going to go to Barnes and Noble to find a baby names book. We never got that far. Now, I'm glad we didn't.

"I'm aware. Thank you."

"She was my niece," Ashtyn says, hiccuping. "And I feel like shit."

"She was my daughter."

"That's what I'm saying!" she yells. "How do you not hate the world right now?!"

I stare at the food on my plate, gone cold now. I clench my jaw and blink - one tear falls and lands amidst the broccoli. "It wasn't the world's fault," I say, shrugging. "It was mine. Bad things happen. Life sucks, then you die."

"You don't believe that," she says. "Shut up. You sound like an 8th grade emo kid."

"It's kind of true, though," I say. "It won't do me any good to sit here and wallow, think about what could've been. She's not coming back. Neither is Jackson."

"What do you mean?"

I don't answer her. "I had a life before I got pregnant. I had a plan. And I have a plan again. I'm going to finish this year. I'm going to be valedictorian. I'm gonna give a speech at graduation, and then I'm gonna go to Duke." I shrug, trying to pretend this is the way I think. "Life goes on. It's that easy."

Ashtyn sniffles. "She never even had a name."

"Well…" I say, placing my plate on the bed next to me. "Like you said, she's gone."

…

The rest of the school year flies by and I do exactly what I set out to. The volleyball team makes it to State, but not further, which is fine with me. I make valedictorian and give a speech that makes more people than just my parents cry. I work with Ashtyn at the pool over the summer - she teaches swim lessons and I keep watch as the lifeguard.

When our class schedules changed for spring, I saw Jackson in the hall once in a while. Never long enough to have a conversation, though I don't think we would've anyway. We'd lock eyes, I'd lose the ability for conscious thought, then hurry away. There was too much between us to know where to begin, so it was best not to begin at all.

But I miss him. I don't say it out loud, but I do. I was the one who forced him away, though, so I don't have the right t to miss him. The only option is to push the feeling down.

I try not to think about him often. Going there won't help anyone or anything, so it's best to stay away. But right now, where every sentimental thought is at the forefront of my mind as we pull up to Duke, it's hard to keep my emotions at bay. My sister is beside me in the back seat, our hands clasped in the middle like we used to do during a thunderstorm on a road trip. Our grips are equally tight. I'm not ready to let her go when the car stops, but I have to.

They're dropping me off first, then taking her to Drexel. The last time I was away from my twin for more than a night was when we went to different sleepaway camps when we were 9. We both cried every night, and made a pact to always go to the same camp after that. I don't know what it'll be like here without her. She's annoying and I hate when she finishes my sentences, hangs out with my friends and steals from my closet, but I don't know how to live without her. I'll have to learn.

"It's lucky you get a single room," she says, plopping onto the bed once we've hauled everything inside my dorm. "Bed sucks, though. It's hard."

I sit next to her and bounce once. "Only half as hard as your head," I say, then shove her over with a loud laugh.

"Girls," Dad says, already starting to put together my TV.

"A little help would be nice," Mom says, unfurling my curtains. "I need more than just an audience."

"But I'm so comfy…" Ashtyn says, stretching out with her arms behind her head.

I kick her shin when I stand up. "Get up, lazy," I say. She does, and we put my room together as a family. Slowly but surely, as we do most things.

"So, I have to help _you_ put together _your_ room," Ashtyn says, tacking up a photo of me and her right in the middle of the corkboard. "But _you_ don't have to help _me_ with _mine_."

"Yeah," I say, plugging my desk lamp into the wall. "That's how it works when you're born 5 minutes late."

"Shut up," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Really, though," I say, walking over to wrap a vice grip around her shoulders, successfully trapping her arms against her sides. "I'm sad I won't be there to see your room."

"Get off me, you weirdo," she says, struggling.

"You love me!" I say, squeezing tighter.

"Let me go!" she shrieks. "Mom! Tell her to get off."

"April," Mom says.

"She likes it," I say, then trip over both of our feet and end up falling on top of my sister on my hard, bare bed.

"You're suffocating me, fatty!" Ashtyn says, laughing so hard her face turns red.

"You're gonna miss me!" I say, sitting on her legs so she can't move.

"Don't sit on me!" she says, kicking wildly so I fall off and hit the wall. "Get away from me, you loser!"

"Girls!" Dad booms, which makes us both stop. "Are you 18, or 8? Enough!"

I widen my eyes in a 'yikes' expression and Ashtyn lets loose a snort of laughter. Calmly, we sit next to each other on my bed and watch our parents put the finishing touches on my room, and eventually I lean to rest my head on her shoulder. Her arm winds around me, and we let the moment pass quietly. I won't get this again until Thanksgiving.

When Mom and Dad leave to put the empty bags and containers back into the car, I let out a long sigh. "I'm gonna miss you," I say, my head still in the same spot.

"You gonna be lonely here?" I shrug. "Might be better than having to share your room with a stranger like I have to."

"It's gonna be weird, being alone," I mutter. My throat gets tight, though I don't want to cry. "Why did we pick separate colleges?"

"So we won't end up like Mary-Kate and Ashley, all attached at the hip and shit," she says. "Plus, you need new friends."

"No, I don't."

"We shared a womb, then a room… for like, ever," she says. "We're built-in best friends for life. But we can't be those old lady twins who like, dress the same and never talk to anyone else and end up creating their own language."

"That was my goal, though."

She laughs and hugs me tight, wrapping both arms around me. "I'm gonna miss you a lot," she says. "We have to call each other once a week."

"And text."

She nods. "I'm always there… if you need to talk. I can get on a bus, or something."

"The phone exists," I say. "You don't have to go all 20th century."

"No, but… you know what I mean," she says, lacing her words with weight. "If things get really hard, I can be here. I _will_ be here."

"Okay. You, too."

"Yeah, but it's different with you," she says. "With everything that happened, and…"

"You don't need to say it."

When it's time for them to leave, I tell my parents I love them and they tell me how proud they are of me, giving me about a hundred hugs and kisses each. I tell Ashtyn to call and text and FaceTime, that I love her, and that she's ugly. I don't want her head getting too big. She tells me I'm uglier, and funny enough, that's what makes me start to cry. I already miss her.

Back in my dorm, I'm alone in my bubble. I hear the same exchanges that I just went through happening through the door, but I don't open it to socialize. I don't want to. I don't know if I ever will. I don't think I'll be that type of college girl - the one who makes friends easily, the one who joins clubs. That was me in high school, but everything is so different now that I don't know how I could possibly be that same girl.

I sigh and it practically echoes. I'm not used to silence in my bedroom. Whether it was Ashtyn's pencil against paper, the sound of her chewing chips, or talking my ear off, there was always something. And now that there isn't, the negative pressure is overwhelming. I have to turn on some music to keep from imploding.

Looking around the sparsely decorated room, I can't help but wonder what things would be like if life had gone a little differently. Had the pregnancy been successful, there's no doubt in my mind that I would not be here. I might be in a small studio apartment with Jackson, a crib against the far wall. A mobile hanging over it, a pink mattress. I know she'd love pink, just like I do. I would have a newborn, and I wonder what she would be like. Would she be an easy baby, like I was? Or a difficult one, like Ashtyn? I'd like to think she'd be easy, waking up once a night to nurse and be close to me. I can imagine Jackson and I sharing a bed near her crib, waking up at any little fuss. I know we'd love her. Even when she was the size of a grain of rice, we'd loved her then. How big our hearts would grow while actually holding her in our arms… I can't wrap my mind around that.

I don't let myself think about the what-ifs or the could-bes, not ever. Because when I do, all it does is cause me pain. But right now, I'm already in pain, so I figure more won't hurt. Sometimes, staving off thoughts of my baby is more work than letting them come. Drowning in daydreams of what might've been is my biggest comfort right now, when everything is so unfamiliar.

I wonder what she'd look like, smiling at the thought of her brown skin and clear eyes. I think of how soft her hair would be - then giggle at the fact that she might've been born completely bald, like me and Ashtyn, hair sprouting in tufts at six months. I think about Jackson putting her in sporty outfits and the homemade dresses my grandma would insist on making. I think about holding her for the first time, kissing her forehead, the feeling of wanting to keep her in my arms forever.

I skim a hand over my flat stomach, but I don't look at it. I never got a chance to see it grow, swell with the life of my daughter. She was gone before my body could change much. At the time, I told myself it was a good thing. Less to bounce back from. But now, it's like trying to catch the tail end of a dream while waking up. The memory of being pregnant is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't grasp it. I wonder if it'll ever happen for me again.

I lie down with my street clothes on and pull my knees to my chest, closing my eyes as the sun still shines outside. I hear people socializing in the quad, but can't bring myself to join. I need to be alone tonight. Tomorrow will be fresh, the official start of my college career. Everything will feel right then. I just need to sleep on it.

In the morning, I'm cautiously hopeful. I give myself plenty of time to get ready, picking out the perfect first-day outfit while brushing my hair into submission. After applying a subtle coat of lip gloss, I make my way to my first class where I'm sure I'll meet my lifelong best friend. All the movies make it seem like people make their most loyal friends in college, so I can't wait to see what's in store for me.

But it turns out, like in a lot of other ways, the first day of classes is nothing like the movies. Everyone is sweaty because they overdressed for September, and no one talks. Everyone is glued to their phone; everyone, including me. I scroll through Twitter mindlessly so I don't stick out, then try to pay attention when the professor starts going over the syllabus. All three of my classes go through the exact same routine, and I'm home much earlier than expected. I buy a protein bar from the store on the way back to my dorm, then eat it alone on my bed.

This is not how I expected college to look. At all. I feel lonelier than I ever have in my life, and more than anything, I want to go home. My real home, where I had friends and people to talk to.

I decide to do the next best thing, which is calling my sister. I hold the phone up as the FaceTime ring chimes throughout my small room, and Ashtyn answers - already laughing.

"Shut up, I'm on the phone," she says, looking to the side. She turns back to me and says, "Hey! What's up?"

"Hey," I answer, much more subdued than she is. "What are you doing?"

"Hanging out in my friend's dorm," she says. "She just ordered pizza. And they're taking, like, _forever_ to get here."

"Oh," I say. "We don't have to talk right now, if you don't want."

"It's fine," she says. "What's going on? What are you up to? You okay?"

I shrug. "I'm fine."

"How were classes? Mine were boring as shit."

"Yeah, me too," I say, then hear a few voices in the background. "You already made friends, though, it sounds like."

"Yeah, these girls on my floor," she says. "They're cool. Say hi, guys! This is my sister."

"The twin!?" A blonde head pops into the frame, paired with a wildly waving hand.

"Yeah, the twin," Ashtyn says, giggling. "April, this is Sunny and Lia. They're cool."

"Hi," I say.

"Your sister is like, totally awesome," the blonde says. I don't know if she's Sunny or Lia and I don't have it in me to ask.

"She's alright," I say, attempting a smile.

Ashtyn shoulders them out of the frame and rolls her eyes. "Really… are you alright?" she asks. "You look sad."

"I don't know," I say. "Just first day stuff. I'll get over it."

"Were you okay last night?"

"Eh," I say. "I cried."

"Yeah, me too."

There's a pocket of silence, then I hear a knock at my door. Puzzled, I look towards the entrance, then back to Ashtyn. "Someone's here," I say. "Probably my RA."

"They're probably gonna force you to do some stupid-ass icebreaker game," she says. "You love those, right?"

"Yeah…" I say sarcastically. "I'll text you, okay?"

"Sure. Bye."

I hang up the phone and toss it onto my bed, crossing the room to open my door without bothering to check the peephole. I met my RA yesterday; she's a nice, tall girl named Kori - but she's not the person standing in the hall right now, waiting for me to answer. Right now, I'm standing face to face with no one other than Jackson Avery.

My mouth goes dry instantly and my throat seems to swell. I've forgotten every word in the English language except for, "You…"

"Me," he says, flashing me a shy-yet-charming grin. Then, he nods in my direction and says, "You."

I press a flat hand to my chest. "Me…"

He chuckles, deep in his throat. Has his voice gotten lower? It must have. "Now that we've established that…" he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um… can I come in, maybe?"

I move away from the door, allowing him entrance. Once he's inside, I can't stop staring. I literally can't take my eyes off of him to look anywhere else.

"I know you're probably surprised to see me," he says, one hand still on his neck. "I knew you would be. I thought you might even be mad… or… or, I don't know. I know how we ended things wasn't good. At all. But it just didn't feel like an ending to me." He meets my eyes - he doesn't waver at all. "I get it if you want me to leave. I'll go, if that's what you want. But I applied here back when we were talking about it, and I got in. I never told you because we stopped talking, and…" He shrugs. "Didn't feel like my place anymore. So, I was just gonna come here and play ball and mind my own, but… then I saw you." He swallows and the corner of his lips pull up in a small grin. "You know how I get when it comes to you. I had to see you. Talk to you. See where you're at… I…" He sighs. "I couldn't leave things how they were."

I shake my head slowly, then faster. I can't believe this is happening. The boy who I spent so much time and energy missing is standing two feet away from me, saying all the right things. All the things I subconsciously wished to hear. I don't know how this is real, but it is. I pinch the skin on my inner wrist and stay exactly where I am. This isn't a dream.

"I missed you," I say, and my voice comes out much quieter than intended. I clear my throat in an attempt to make it louder. "And I'm sorry."

I hope he knows what I'm sorry for. For treating him so badly when it happened. For isolating myself. For cutting off communication. For everything. I take a step closer to him, figuratively and literally. And the first step is always the hardest - the rest come much easier. Before I know it, I'm in his arms, wrapped in the strongest hug I've felt since we last touched.

He holds the back of my head with one big hand and uses the other to wind around my lower back. I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his chest, and breathe him in. He might sound a little different, but he smells exactly the same. "How long can you stay?" I ask.

I look up and he cups my chin in his hands, cradling my face as we lock eyes. He smiles softly and says, "I'm gonna stay forever, and rustle up all kinds of trouble with you."


End file.
